It's early Monday morning, cold and frosty and I can't stop crying. The tears are leaking out, I feel so alone and so lost and so scared. So fucking scared.
My best friend is dying. He's in so much pain and I cry for him too, for what is coming and because I can't be there with him. It adds to my pain because I know there are worse things in the world than what I am going through right now. So much worse.
I sit here in this house and I don't know what will happen to me; where I will go, what I will do. I'm drifting, lost, aimless, rudderless. I feel I have no connection to anything anymore. No purpose. Nothing. I've been voided.
What's the point? In anything?
Except I look at my friend, at his struggle to stay here, to stay alive and I understand the point.
It's simply to be here.
However 'here' is. Wherever 'here' is. Whatever 'here' is. Just to 'be'.
My friend is fighting for that. I realise I'm already there. I have a choice - the alternative to being here is NOT being here. Not being. And I, underneath all the fear and pain and hurt and grief and loss and anger... I still want to be here.
So wherever I go, whichever shore I shall wash up on like some sea wracked flotsam, I will be.
And if I don't like it there, I'll go 'be' somewhere else, until my day to not 'be' comes.
I'm simply 'be-ing'.
A simple being.