I Cannot Be the Only One

 I cannot be the only one, can I?
I cannot possibly be the only person that is tired, mentally fatigued to the point where I simply do not care if I even get out of bed?

I cannot be the only one, can I?

Am I the single person on Earth that feels like his problems are not understood much less met with any kind of sympathy?

I am surrounded by people and yet I feel alone. I am alone. I am utterly alone. The solitude like a noose slowly tightened, drawing tighter, breathing shallow. My eyes refuse to focus, my limbs become rebellious; fighting to even stand.

I cannot be the only one, can I?

My closets friend has become my worst enemy and I am devastated at the prospect of the finality that looms. The hardest part is that I do not even seem to care. I am almost relieved at the thought that I may be done with that chapter.  The hardest chapter I’ve ever written both in it’s production and destruction.

I cannot be the only one, can I?

And yet, I am not without hope. Yes, it’s dark outside, but there is light – distant perhaps – beyond the clouds. I have a sense that it will all work out though I may not ever know when. I do not have to always feel happy, right? I do not have to, do I?

I cannot be the only one, am I?