With this of all things

being sad is past tiresome. It's a new year, but really it's just a different day. It's only an agreed upon frame of reference. I feel like I am waiting but I am only waiting for myself to show up, there will be no miracle, no one will come to save me if I cannot do it for myself. It's a horrible feeling that I cannot find any spark, I think I only have them as I rub off on others, I suppose that is fitting. Wood, metals, they emit energy when struck together. balloons and materials emit smaller sparks as electrical energy. Being alone I struggle to expend my own energy, but I fear being with others, no one knows the fear, I prefer to stay in hiding, to sit with my envy, my sadness, my remorse, my disappointment. I am living in fear of being alive. My courage escapes me, it is dwarfed by my sadness. It is said first mourn then work for change, but I can't seem to stop mourning. I sometimes work through the tears but it gets hard and my tears need their expression this much I know because they persist so mightily.With this of all things I would that I was finished.