It’s the middle of the night and I can’t sleep. I see myself sitting beside the embers of a dying fire; I’m trying to keep warm. I can hear voices outside; I wish they’d come in. I need to be able to tell someone, to share my burden, to offload my fears. I want them to see how difficult this is for me; I want their sympathy. I need their reassurance; I need someone to tell me it will be ok, that it will end soon. I want to be rescued from this nightmare.
I’m so lonely. I’m told there are thousands upon thousands of people like me; but who are they, where are they? I think they’d understand what I’m going through. Nobody else does. I don’t tell people, workers, what it’s like. They don’t want to know. Maybe they’re frightened it will happen to them; maybe that’s why they look bored or change the subject when I try to talk to them about it.
I’ve become a burden; I know I have. I don’t want to be one, but I can’t avoid it. I have to ask for favours; I’ve no other choice. I always need help. I’ve lost my independence; it went with the money. I’ve lost my freedom too. It’s funny, I have so much time; but I can’t afford to do anything with it.
I feel a failure. I’ve let my family down. I can’t give them what they want. I have to say no; sorry. I have to explain, I’d love to, but...I can’t afford it. I hate saying that; it’s like I’m giving in to it, admitting how bad it’s become. I know I have to accept it, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to be unemployed; I want to be at work.
I’m trying so hard. I’ve sent hundreds of emails; I hardly ever get a reply. I’m trying to be imaginative, to think of something, invent something, create an opportunity for myself; but it’s hard when no one responds to my ideas. I’m in a hole; its deep, the sides are sheer. There’s no way out. I need a ladder; I need a leg up. I need a break; but I can’t see where it’s going to come from. Nobody gives breaks anymore. They’re all too busy clinging to what they’ve got; they’ve no time for people like me.
I feel so rejected. Why am I not wanted? What have I done wrong? Can’t they see I’m trying; can’t they give me a chance? But they don’t understand; they don’t care. They pretend to; but it’s only platitudes. If they really cared they’d reply to my emails.
I work really hard to keep myself busy; I have to. If I didn’t, I’d go under. Boredom is my enemy. It wastes my time, dampens my hopes; it ruins my mind and destroys my soul. I have to overcome it. I’m frightened it will lead to depression. I mustn’t let that happen; if it does it will entomb me in a coffin of darkness and pessimism. There’d be no way out then.
But I’m scared; I mightn’t have the strength. I’m terrified I’ll give in. What will happen to me then? What will become of me if I can’t fight anymore; if I stop trying, if I surrender?
“Stay strong; there are people worse off than you,” I talk to myself a lot these days; it’s my only source of comfort. “You’ll get through this; you’ll come out the other end. You always do.”
I hope I’m right. I hope there is an end. I hope it’s not too far away. I pray I can last long enough to reach it.
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