Tragedy has struck. My euphoria has fallen from its height and I am cast into such a deep pit of depression.
My grandmother has died. The one I was ranting and complaining about being so vain and presumptuous and bothersome just the other day. She is dead. Gone.
But it isn't her death so much, it isn't the loss of her, but the realization...
It doesn't touch me. My mother's sobs, my grandfather's passionate tears. I don't feel anything. My grandfather told me she loved me, that she was proud of me.
But she didn't know me. She loved a lie. She was proud of a beautiful fabrication.
And thats all anyone sees. And I cannot even feel hurt that I could have opened up and let her see me. That I could let anyone see me.
Its all a lie. Its all a fabrication. I am so cold and so hard and so bitter. I can't feel anything. I haven't been able to for so many years. My eyes hardly even know how to cry any more.
And I feel so selfish. My grandmother has died and all I can think of is myself.
Because I can't feel anything else...
Oh dear God...
I'm not ok...
The hot angry tears tremble on the surface. What have I done? Who have I become?
Not worthy of anyone's love...
Oh dear God...Oh dear...oh gosh...
Oh please...I need you...
I'm such a wreck...so much more than just her death...
Oh it's too much...it's too much...
All I am is a cold and heartless monster...