I was sitting outside on the bench. A few others were enjoying the sun.
I started becoming depressed as I listened to chats.
People feeling lonely
People with walkers
No one to see
No place to go.
I thought to myself, “I should be feeling blessed for my apartment, and I’m sorry Lord, I’m not so much.”
People with strokes, Parkinson’s and others who have a hole in their pockets, is what I knew.
I heard one say, “We can’t paint our walls. We can’t have an outdoor grill. We are one step a way from a nursing home or death.”
My insides screamed, “No! No! No! I can’t do this. I’m not ready. I’m not that I’ll yet.”
But the sad truth is, I am not married, so no financial support. I have no money and I am forced to live here.
This makes me ashamed because I am not grateful enough. It makes me cry inside for others who want what once was.
These people are not responsible for my sadness. They just make me have to face the devastating facts of my own life.
I need a break from here, where I live. I want to hear laughter. I want to hug my friends online that battle each day to win. I don’t want to see what lies ahead.