Stray

am worthless.

No friends, only enemies and those who wish to utilize me as a tool.

I don't have a single blood relation who can stand me.

I sit alone most of the time, most of the day, often at night, wondering how I offended God to be punished like this.

I am condemned to be alone. Nothing lasts. Nothing is real. Only despair and loneliness and frustration.

I hate myself and I hate living this unbearable life. Unbearable because there is no solace. Only fear and hurt.

I wish I were stronger and not a prisoner to feelings. Of ineptitude, loss, envy, sadness and longing. I think I could bear the burdens of existence better if I didn't feel so wounded all the time.

Because I'm so damn unremarkable that I fade like the Cheshire cat. If I disappeared nobody would even notice I was gone. Nobody hears my voice, or sees my presence. I'm so faint I'm like the watermark on stationary- barely noticed, a taint, a trace.

I don't make a dent even in relationships. I could slit my wrists while standing naked in Times Square and nobody would see a thing. Nobody sees like the wounded cat I am that I slink off to a hidden corner to cry. Nobody would care. Why would anyone? Who could care about the old, discarded stray?

Who indeed?