Blackseraphine

After all that work that was put into that...

9 hours, 8 hours, a few more hours...

Hundreds of messages...

And then not knowing where he was...

Wishing him well in a place he already left..

I made a fool of myself again, haven't I?

Last Monday.  

The week before that I had been struggling with my own thoughts, my own misgivings about myself.

When I saw those words that were posted, my first instinct is to turn away. 

I'm not a fighter. I don't want a fight. 

But I turned back to it and, still unsure, put myself on it.

Reactions are mostly from a contrived scenario. Which angered me more. It was ragebait, dressed in fake concern.

By far the most hurtful were the ones who said he had no self-respect. That he was undignified.

I felt hurt for him.

It took a while before I got into the momentum of things, of finding what needed to be said and how to say it.

9 hours the first night, 8 the next, a few more hours after that. 

For a few days, I was tired, sleepless and busy. My sister noticed and was giving me chide remarks. But it can't be avoided or hidden. I was glued to the screen and, at times, glued to the power outlet.

It was fine. I could have rested that Monday, couldn't I? I did. But waking up, finding out I embarrassed myself again...

I didn't have the energy, the emotional capacity to be indifferent about it.

Maybe on a good day, when I had properly rested, when my heart is full, I'd have the strength to say 'It didn't matter. It's no big deal.'

But that day... I was running on empty.

When I opened my app, that's the first thing I saw: him dropping to his knees. 

My heart sank too.

Suddenly I felt drained and empty. Tired and heavy.

I couldn't talk. I couldn't even look at him.

I felt nothingness inside me.