Thursday, December 24, 2015


There's a light at the end of this tunnel.
In the dark it calls out to me.
To light my path keep me from falling.  There's a light calling out to me.

It's nights like these that get me.

When all the visitors are gone. When friends stop messaging. When family is all asleep. When I'm alone in my room. And there's no one to see how desperate or depressed I really am.

The tears start falling. The shaking begins. There are muffled sobs and moans of pain. And my own arms and hands reach out to comfort myself so I can make it through one more night.

Three hours of sleep. At the most four. And then my new normal day begins. Check if they're alive. Check if their chests are still moving. Remind them to take their medicines or force it down their throats. Carry them. Up from the bed. To the toilet. To the shower. To the table. Clean them up. Keep my cool. In and out of their room always ready to fulfill their next request. But always, to make sure they're still alive.

But right now, to stay sane, puff a cigarette or two. Drown out the smell with some perfume. Drink some beer from my stash. And cry. Sometimes I laugh at the stupidity of this situation and what kind of bind we're all in. But mostly I cry. And I lie to myself. That somehow we'll make it through.

And if I have to lie to myself so that I can make it through the night, I'll do it.