I'm afraid the age has come. I am not so strong as I used to be. I do not have focus, I cry a lot and I still remember a past which has nothing in common to the present. The truth is that I suffer from mental illness.
I saw a girl in the University and I had this dream that I have met and loved her. But none of this happened. This one girl or woman doesn't even know me, she never saw my face or heard my voice.
It is kind of sick to love something that only exist in my mind. While I speak, they are trying to find me a therapist.
It was too much imagination which created this fantasy of love. There are no such things out of my head and I confess I am sick. I just saw the woman! Where was my mind? My mind created such a wonderful story about this girl, as we had loved each other for a long time and separated tragically, as in romances.
I will keep taking my medicine. I am furious and angry, after all. Platonic love and psychotic tendency.
Even if I could, it's like to love a girl that you saw in a magazine. She will not respond, smile or do anything. Only your mind gives soul to that little image. Wings to imagination.
The girl of the weekly magazine shall never look to a guy like me. Like I said, age has come and I can feel it. Wrinkles, marks of alcohol, drugs and bad nights of sleep. Dark circles surround my eyes and my ill heart.
I've never been so fat. I've never been so ugly. I woke up today not loving myself. I look to the mirror and I feel disgusting. Fat, wrinkles, without any cash inside the bank, without family or kids. I am what people use to call loser. I do not have any hair in my head anymore. My photos of Facebook were from a time where I used to have a big hair, as a lion. I was so beautiful but I didn't know. I know now that I feel shame of my body. The photos of facebook do not express reality.
I did nothing at all in my life. It was a waste of time. Only dreaming with something that never happened. Today I'm fat and broken and when a woman see me in the streets, she runs away. Dark circles around my eyes.
This is all because I have hope: the most stupid feeling one could have. We pass our lives always hoping, always waiting for some magical day which never happens and the frustration grows fat as my belly.
Hope. I have hope but I do nothing to change the poor situation. I feel shame of myself. An old and solitary man which still is a dull undergraduate student. I have no future at all. I am lost in the space. Why? Because I'm too old for profession. I am not like wine, I am not getting better with time.
Today is the day I will definitely quit writing. There is no need to put my shame on public. Today is the day I will live this problems for those which enjoy to live here, for those which are really happy, because God loves them, they have a family, father, mother, uncle, friends, girlfriends, boyfriends. I have nothing and I feel envy. I can't never achieve happiness. I don't deserve to be happy. This is why I am leaving the stage. The actor is tired of so much hatred and passive actions. I will do this because I am certain nobody will ever miss me. And it will cause a cost to the State, because I do not have a cent for my own funeral. Like I said, I'm loser and I don't deserve to be here. This world is a place for happy people, and I am deeply unhappy.
I want to get away from here right now. With no applause or crying mother. Because I don't have one. I never had a mother and the one I had tried to kill me with medicine. I survived because I'm stupid. I survived to get a mental illness which torments me night and day, a phantom of a woman which never knew who I am, and this is a good thing for her! I could disturb her peace, interrupt her career, make her cry as I always do.
I am not asking... This is a cruel world, a cruel play and I'm leaving the stage! Bye and do not cry for me, because you didn't cry when I was alive and lonely. Do not cry when I go. It's not because of you, or this, or that: It's because I'm sick and everybody knows it. Now people will have peace. The world is a better place without me. Bye and do not remember me, do not visit my grave. It was only my dream! My dream!
Enough of publicity: time to move. Time to disengage this carbon carapace into thousands fragments of rotten meal. May the worms be glad with my flesh.
Clarissa Lake - Bye
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