Hopeless

Epilogue: When Things Get Life

~*~

You're always so stuck on saying "things will get better" 

That word is like ivory to you. No matter what you keep it and savor the look of it. What it could be and what it is.

But you don't collect it. Life doesn't get better, it's already there. You don't have to be so fixated on the fact that it isn't preferred. Actually, our life could've been fixed. 

It could've been great. We could've been great. 

Maybe as I sit here and revel in it I don't think it would've ended. Because he's still here, holding me, huddled close alive. 

I still feel the ache in my chest and the flustering pain his love and smiles give me. But he feels so far away. 

As if I came back but every time it's like he's stepping around hot coals, trying not to push me over an edge. 

Maybe I am the edge. 

And no matter what I try I'll always be right on it, back towards it. So if you get too close you wonder if you'll fall off at my expense. 

Maybe I am abusive like him. Maybe I am worth nothing. 

And really, if I didn't think so much of myself I could've done something. 

But that's over now. I've got years ahead and all I can do is focus on this one life that isn't even alive. 

I'll tell you that I'm clean, but that doesn't mean it's true.

I still feel the need, I still want this badly.

I want pain in impulse. I want something to kill me, but I'm so afraid of death. 

If we just stopped living for the fact of dying and could see that maybe things don't need to get better, they just need to get life. 

"Get life" 

I like that term.