Changing room

I sit in the changing room at the hospital. Nameless blue gown barely pretending to cover me, head in my hands, tears running down my cheeks. I cry for so many things that I could never describe them all. I cry because I am tired, and do not have the energy not to.
I cry for the life I could have had. I cry for the times I have enjoyed. I cry for the mountains I will never see. I cry for the cliffs I will never play on. I cry for the friends I cannot muster the energy to see. I cry for the friends I will never make. I cry for the places I will never experience. I cry for the cultures I will never be part of, no matter how briefly. I cry for Canada, I cry for Australia. I weep for humanity, a wispy construct that seems to have been hijacked by the rich. I weep for the millions of animals that die every year after living lives of hell because humanity has no idea of what it wants. I weep because nothing is going to change, the animals will die in darkness for a dollar. Humanity doesn’t want to know. Hide the evidence, bring me the product. Don’t make me think, I don’t want to know. I weep for my children. I weep for the sunday breakfasts I see in my mind. The soccer games, the trips to the grampians. I weep for the man I was, even a few short months ago, stronger, more confident, less scared. I weep for Amelia. I weep for the inlaws I would have loved to have had. I weep for the nephews and nieces I will never meet. I weep for the people reading this blog. I wish so much I could write about success and strength. Instead sorrow follows pain and yet someone is still reading. I cry for the friends I have that love me enough to read day after day. I wish I could reward your love with softer news or gentler stories.
Most of all I weep for the degradation. I weep for the loss. I weep for you, and I weep for me.
There is no going back. But I weep none the less.

About jeromepink

I am slightly taller than average, have brown hair, enjoy rock climbing, and got told I would be dead within 5 years in 2010. I have chosen to disregard this :P
This entry was posted in Mental Health. Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to Changing room

  1. Hannah says:

    Being a part of your life is reward enough. xoxo

  2. Sabdha says:

    We’re crying right along with you, Jeremy. We love you and read every day.

  3. Sam says:

    That was incredibly touching mate. No one could ask more of you than have already done. To keep writing despite your pain shows tremendous strength. The least I can do is share in your pain, to be oblivious to what you are experiencing would be unforgiveable. Love you always bro.

  4. Bron says:

    I feel ashamed that I don’t comment after more posts that that you write each time I read. I’m like some sort of stalker lurking in the background. But I can understand frustration at words not being able to do justice to all that you are experiencing. I can’t find the words to express the pain of watching one of the best people I have ever had the privilege of knowing going through such anguish and only being able to stand idly by. Nor can I find the words to describe the hope I have that there will still be a positive ending here.
    I love you. We love you. You travel along with us each and every day.

  5. I wish you could write gentler stories too – for you and yours first and foremost. We do cry with you … but if you can keep writing, darned if we can’t keep on reading.

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