Who will cry when I'm gone-

I often wonder what it will be like to die knowing no one will care. No one will cry. No one to wish I were still here. If I am aware of my impending death what will it be like to linger with no one to tell me it will be ok. To live alone then to die alone. Which is worse- I won't know right up to the very end. Life can be cruel. Death surely can't be worse. I watched Conan Obrien's last show and something he said hit me square in the face of reality. No one ever gets everything they want in life. That coming from a multi millionaire with a wife, kids, and millions of fans. All I ever wanted was someone to care. Someone to think about me and someone I could depend on. All these years and I DO get it. Meant to live alone and die alone. But why ? What did I do to deserve this. Am I the only one living this way. I'm creative. I have a sense of humor. I bleed. Hurt. Cry. Like an unwanted abandoned animal who still looks for something to eat, some place to get out of the rain, and waiting for someone to hear my cries. There is no one out there for me. I hope a thousand people are living wonderful fulfilled lives because I live alone so they won't have to. Who will cry when I'm gone-

Never even made it outside-

Got up, took a shower, ate a sandwich, watched TV, sleep. What a pathetic wasted existence. Not a single call, not a single email, no words spoken to another human being. Even murderers in a federal prison have interaction with other human beings. This is the prison in my mind. The one that traps me in a continuing state of isolation. How many others are going through this and so many just keep spinning around going on with life and never knowing this type of pain. Dear God, would you just simply send me a short note telling me why it was me you chose for this and what good can come from it. If someone else gets to live without this isolation then I could feel it was worth it. I'm waiting God. Whenever you get a minute.

I woke up again today.

No one calls. No one checks on me. No one is there. Only the echoes of my tortured mind are the songs I hear. What reason could god have for not taking me in a natural way or giving me the light I need to find my way out on my own. Am I suffering to keep someone else from going through this ? Is there some purpose I just can't see for me to have been called to go this way. I know life isn't supposed to be this way. It's too late for me and my chance at a normal life has passed me by. The only constant is the surprise that so far I haven't stopped this madness with my own hand. God, before I go, please dear god tell me why. It's the only question I have. Not why me, but why. Just why. Dear god please tell me why.

Reaching Out From the Darkness of Despair.

Sleep and Sleep. The madness control.

The only rest from the torment in my mind and the ache in my soul is sleep. It doesn't come often enough and doesn't stay. When I sleep I don't feel pain, don't wish things had turned out differently, and don't worry when the end is going to take me out of this hell. When I wake I'm right back inside this mental prison and there is no phone calls, no emails, no attempt to contact, no acknowledgement that I ever existed in anyones mind. My days are spent walking around my house stopping from one room to the next and wondering how anyone can live this way completely alone with the only sound emanating from life are the screams from my mind. This is hell on earth. What was the plan in a higher power for a baby born to a somewhat single mother who had never done anything wrong in it's life. What plan would seem worthy of any human being having to live a life full of misery, sadness, and pain. The search for a reason, the longing I have always had to explain why and how I was selected and by whom, to go through this kind of existence is what keeps me asking myself what did you do to deserve this. How could a tiny 5 pound bundle of arms and legs who never asked to be here, be subjected to a life on an abandoned island where millions of people walk by without even so much as a notice. There isn't anything left to do but calculate the ending to this tragedy. How, when, under what circumstance, will this end.

Another day in darkness.

Time marches on as if there is some new and exciting reason I would want to wake up. In fact a really bad dream had me choking back tears all morning and only now I am able to write. Been telling myself I had better get my things in order and more important, get myself right with god. My eyes tell the story of my sad life alone and I can hardly bare to even look at myself in the mirror anymore. God help me.

The Man In The Mirror

I look in the mirror and see a man staring back at me. I don't know who he is, because he's not the man I want to be. He puts a smile on while inside he's falling apart. He says, "I'm okay", as pain fills his heart. He pretends not to care as everyone slowly walks away. He hides behind his mask and pretends to be okay. He is scared to open up, and call someone his friend. They all turn out the same, and never really care in the end. He is scared to let people close, It always ends up as heartache. He decides to trust someone, but it always ends up as a big mistake. He feels like a stranger in his own home, like he doesn't even belong. He tries the best he can, But it always seems to be wrong. He freezes up at the word "love", people throw it around too much. His muscles constrict, as he is afraid to be touched. He has ideas for the future, hopes and dreams of his own. But he doesn't hold his breath, because disappointment is all he has ever known. He asks, "Why am I never good enough", "Why am I always second choice"? People tell him he's got to stand up for what he wants, he's got to find his own voice. I know who I wanna be, It's all so much clearer. But the fact of life is, I'm only the man in the mirror.