I am; I Might

I am…not. That is all.

It’s all I can think or feel at this point, if I am to be frank. The world swirls this way and that, to and fro. I sit still. I watch. They play, laugh, and seem with so few cares to love each day. I fret when not numb or cold in my soul.

This is wrong; I know that. My mind is not whole, or is it my soul, the cause of all these strains and cracks? Both could be bad, I know not. I care not. I do care. I fear I do not, or I fear that I do.

She cared. She was…yes, she was. She lived. She loved. Oh god, she laughed with such pure joy, such clean glee. Did I? With her I think I did. I hope I did. I pray to once more.

I will not. This I know, for she is gone. She cares not this day. She lives not in my heart. She loves me not. She laughs, now a dark sound, the mock of an ill fae on the plight of man so lost and done.

Death calls as the sole stop to save me from such hate, such a life. It will come; I pray it wait though.

I may yet live or laugh. I might.

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