I'm all alone out here:

I've been all alone for the longest time. It is dark and cold and lonely. I want to talk to somebody, but they have all gone away. They closed their doors and their windows to keep me out. They turned off their lights to pretend they weren't at home. They turned off the phones or they won't answer.

I sit here and talk to myself sometimes. I try to figure out what it is that they are avoiding. It isn't happening to them. It is happening to me. I once believed the fiction that they loved me. We had a good happy life. We had things and we did things. We laughed and we played, we worked and we talked. But now it is all different. They only want to think about themselves. If I keep trying to talk to them perhaps they will pick up a shovel and dig a hole to bury me in so they won't have to hear me.

Sure, they have had hard times. And I did listen. I listened for hours as they told me all the awful things that happened to them. I loved them. I tried to soothe them, to brush away the hurts, to soften the blows. But now I wonder what good it did because when I needed them they all ran away.

I know what it is. They don't want to believe me. They don't want to believe this could happen. And so they put their fingers in their ears and they shout, "La,la,la, I can't hear you!" and they turn and look away or they look right past me as though I am already gone, a figment of their imagination.

I'm a voiceless voice, a bodyless body. I don't exist. I'm turning black and melting away. My life was nothing. My days were spent on nothing. There was no love. There was no me.