Nearly 32


I’m lying on my bed in the dark (very grateful for my -what after three years will be considered ancient – BlackBerry), my cheecks sticky from crying since I stepped out of my office building.

At nearly 32 I have achieved nothing. I have nothing to show for my life. The messy divorce of my parents gets more vile every day when more of my father’s lying, cheating, scheming, threats, etc. come to light. I’ve watched relationships break down around me. I’ve lost the most important person in my life. I’ve given too much; to my own detriment, and that is all I have to show for nearly 32 years: emotional, financial and physical ruin.
Supposedly still in the prime of my life, I’m troubled by migraines, fluctuation blood pressure, a stomach ulcer, joint pains and torn cuticles at the mercy of my teeth.

I’m tired. I’ve had enough. I see nothing but failure when I look back on 32 years. I have nothing. I am nothing. Just tired. Just sad. Just reaching my limit.


About Syllable

A frugal shopaholic called Syllable: Intelligent, skeptic, curious, naïve, passionate, moody, honest, creative, obsessive & obsessed. A dreamer, a worrier, a writer, a reader, a listener, an observer. My little site of fiction:

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