As I write this, I have reached a point where I am ready to embrace death. I don’t think there is much left for me on this journey. There is not much I can offer this world as it truly does not understand me. I’m grateful to be healthy, have basic necessities. But that is where my love for life ends. My admiration for it will continue as it is fed by my imagination. However, this admiration I find to be of little use to others. It is created out of necessity and as such will always serve the purpose of keeping me alive but that is where its role ends. When I go, it dies with me. I always knew that my deep fear of the loss potential was just another stop on the road to utter hopelessness and belief that I truly don’t matter. What I yearn for and will continue to do so till my last breath is someone who will both understand me and encourage me. In all my life I have only come across people who are capable of one those things. And that does more harm than good. The belief in a God filled this hole for some time till it didn’t. I resist the urge to jump off a building because I love my mother, who is perhaps the only person I love. I’ve never cared much for the rest of the world. I am interested in people, I am intrigued by life, but I don’t love much. I’ve faked tears at many funerals not because I love people but because I believe some deserve tears. I hope that in this confusing in-between place where to cure loneliness feels like an inappropriate reaction, I’ll find my eternal rest in a way that doesn’t burden the ones who have given gifts that were never received.