Isn’t that simply the way of the world- when one is weary, alone, (or so it seems) in this great big world? A few months ago, I had everything. Albeit nothing was perfect, save for my daughter. But then again, I am now the one listening to Clair de Lune all by myself, in this sterile hospital room, stricken with the disease that killed my father a year ago.
And being here, all alone, I realize that I absolutely have NO ONE. It is pathetic of me. That I should muster up the energy to get onto that stupid social networking website, just to get a glimpse into the world I thought I belonged in. Me- that I should hack out clumps of bloody phlegm into the sink, and then hurry to my laptop beside my hospital bed because I heard a “ping” and that could mean somebody from the outside world wants to chat with me. I am sad and pathetic. And I am alone. My mother is in India, my brother laughs and hopes for my death so that he can inherit my “wealth”, my daughter is kept away from me for fear of the contagion of disease. I am miserable, and yet I pretend to be happy. Stuffing myself with Domino’s pizza (horrible). Wrapping myself up in my hoodie, and mask and gloves, I walked downstairs to buy a 100+ and no one stopped me. A walking disease. And no one stopped me. They let me, and I think to myself, is this what our world has become?
And strangely, the man who ceased to be my husband 3 days ago, is the only man I wish was here with me now. Silent, still, sitting in the corner, he needn’t say a word. And now he isn’t here. And I feel the emptiness acutely. So, so, so acutely, it stabs me in my liver.