Hating Time

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I’m not sure if this is sadness. It’s sad-like. Like always having melancholy music in your background, no matter how bright and beautiful the day is.
There’s no warmth to be found—in people or situations.

I wake up completely indifferent to my role in the world and just go about doing only the bare minimum things to survive.
There’s no will to fight. For anything, against anything, or for anyone. The world has moved on from me. Things are happening as they are supposed to happen. And I am just there. There seems to be no inherent value of my existence, to anyone or anything. To no one’s fault, of course.

The only exception being my lovely mother, who of course continues to care deeply for me. In her own ways.

Sadly, I am nothing more than the source of her pain at this moment. I can’t imagine a life where I can make the both of us happy. And it wouldn’t matter if I were to be happy but she was not. For the first time in my life, I can’t see the next step.

Even if the world were to end today, it would be still be unfair to the woman who spent all her life waiting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Alone and scared at night but brave and enduring during day.

Everything seems unfair.