The Lowest Point

I wrote this in December of 2020 :

I don’t want to look back anymore. Unfortunately, the future is fogged with uncertainty and possibility of death. I am terrified and I must learn to live in this body full of pain and dread. What do I have left? The present. In the present, tears run down my cheek once or twice a day. I have had this feeling before and I assure you that it will only magnify. Pretty soon, my bedroom will be flooded by my tears while I keep my voice down so that my sister and my neighbors do not hear me weep. I don’t know if I am mourning, or if I am broken, or if I am healing.

I sit in my bedroom and look around. I finally have all of the material items that I need. I finally have a savings, but I am still empty. How long is this all going to last, and will I ever leave this place? Will I ever feel whole?  

I feel like a puzzle with missing pieces. I have searched and searched for those pieces, but I have a feeling that they do not exist. Perhaps the creator played a cruel trick on me. All I know is that I don’t want to spend the rest of my life searching for pieces of a puzzle that were never manufactured.

What now? How am I supposed to fill the holes in my soul? All I have are my words and right now, even those mean nothing to my own ears.

Angelica Flores

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