Dead man walking

Ever since she left I’m nothing. I’m a shell. A talking guy with nothing to say. I got angry. Angry at her. At the world. I reinvented myself. Reinvigorated. Revitalized. Reborn. It did not matter. A dead man cannot be reborn. He is dead and he shall be forever.

You don’t understand where I come from. I come from hate, from negligence, from abuse. I come from confusion, from pain, from humiliation. That’s what I know. It’s what I breath.

Then there was a miracle. I opened up. I loved her. She loved me. I could show love. I could feel totally vulnerable. I could feel complete. The hardest task for someone like me. It did not matter. She left me just the same. Like a pile of garbage. A smelling heap no one wants anything to do with. ‘Go ahead and die,’ they say. ‘Be gone and stay gone and rot!,’ they spout. All of them. Pointing fingers. Laughing. Disgusted.

So now I’m still here. But I am not also. I am a dead man walking. My potential was lived out. It led to nothing. No happy ending. Destruction.
And I don’t feel free. I feel lost. And dead. I feel heartbroken. And heartless. And miserable. And nothing. Nothing at all. Just a guy who was nothing growing up, and who lost it all.

If I end it myself she’ll be sad and feel guilty, but she’ll move on. If I continue she won’t care. Just like the garbage goes to a place unknown. Headed for incineration, or recycling. Who the hell cares.

I’m here and I’m not. I’m a dead man walking. A pointless joke. I will die and I will be just the same as when I loved. Headed for rot. No flame. No light. No point. Just dead. That’s me. Forever. Forever dead shall I be.