Can't Remember What I Used to Fight For

evermore

A prompt for radiogaga09

Gray November
I've been down since July
Motion capture
Put me in a bad light

To an observer, he had it all, in spades. An embarrassing amount of riches; wealth,  beautiful homes, a career that never dried up, an intelligent, healthy, amazing daughter. He would even be apt to agree. On paper, everything lined up. There was little reason to be down in the drudges, at least from an outside perspective and with all of his great privilege and what it afforded him, complaining felt ungrateful and incredibly tone deaf.

And yet, there he was, pulled further and further under by the day, waving his hands in the hopes that someone would see. Barely resisant to the undertow, floating through the hours, ignoring the ache that sat like a bolder, deep in his chest. Like all maladies, he'd learned to live with it, swallowing past the ever present lump in his throat and pushing through.

A caring son.

A devoted father.

An actor and director, serious about his craft.

Identites that he was proud of, that he was comfortable with. But somehow, in the thick of putting his head down and navigating through Gloria's illness and juggling Lea's shedule and meetings and phone calls and a world wide pandemic, somewhere along the way, he got lost.

Lost hope. Lost himself.

I replay my footsteps on each stepping stone
Trying to find the one where I went wrong
Writing letters
Addressed to the fire
And I was catching my breath
Staring out an open window
Catching my death
And I couldn't be sure
I had a feeling so peculiar
That this pain would be for
Evermore

Guilt. It was an old friend who liked to linger, whispering in his ear. Gloria had nursing care, Holly stepped in whenever she could, he had a wonderful nanny for Lea whenever he had to work, Irina was very much involved. There were friends. Family. So much more than most people had.

People handle things like this, every day, he told his reflection sharply in the mirror. Harder things and all alone, too. Suck it up.

All he would have had to do was pick up the phone. Let Holly know he was having a difficult go of it, that Gloria seemed more withdrawn and depressed and he didn't know what to do, even though he'd spoken to her doctor. Ask Irina to switch weekends, maybe, so he could get his head on straight. Find a therapist. Tell someone he was drowning.

But what right did he have to be in pain, he reasoned, watching his mother barely able to walk, unable to leave the house, save for doctor's appointments? What allowance could he give himself for throwing himself into Lea's care, desperate, he knew, to make life as normal as possible for her, to atone, maybe, for the fact he and Irina hadn't been able to make things work.

He had no right.

Man up, he told himself, time and time again. Man up, suck it up, keep going. It was his responsibility to care for Gloria. For Lea. His obligation not to fall completely the fuck apart.

Who would catch him if he did?

Hey December
Guess I'm feeling unmoored
Can't remember
What I used to fight for

I rewind the tape but all it does is pause
On the very moment all was lost
Sending signals
To be double crossed

And I was catching my breath
Barefoot in the wildest winter
Catching my death
And I couldn't be sure
I had a feeling so peculiar
That this pain would be for
Evermore