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.