"Alone”

BY EDGAR ALLAN POE

From childhood’s hour I have not been

As others were—I have not seen

As others saw—I could not bring

My passions from a common spring—

From the same source I have not taken

My sorrow—I could not awaken

My heart to joy at the same tone—

And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone—

Then—in my childhood—in the dawn

Of a most stormy life—was drawn

From ev’ry depth of good and ill

The mystery which binds me still—

From the torrent, or the fountain—

From the red cliff of the mountain—

From the sun that ’round me roll’d

In its autumn tint of gold—

From the lightning in the sky

As it pass’d me flying by—

From the thunder, and the storm—

And the cloud that took the form

(When the rest of Heaven was blue)

Of a demon in my view—

Source: American Poetry: The Nineteenth Century (1993)

Poe has the apropos language to describe my life so far. The handful lines of Poe's struck a chord so deep that I almost cried. Sometimes I do wonder how I ended up here, a tired soul in a damaged body encased in pain. As far back as I can remember,  I can only remember my failings. I think I was a happy child, but with each passing day that happiness seeped out if me. My friends were never loyal, my life a downward spiral of struggle. I witnessed first hand what it is like to endure real soul crushing defeat and be the only one to attend the wake. I have always been alone in my sorrow. Truly alone. There has been no one to stand with me.

Reader, I know what you'll say. I acknowledge that many have it way worse than I do. Few have people to stand with them. I agree. But does it really make this OK? 

A part of me is dead. The carefree, jovial, happy girl was replaced with an anxious, sad woman who lives in pain. I'm at a point in life where there is little scope of recovery. With no energy left for picking the places and healing, I'm just trying to get this over with. 

Hurt people hurt people. I'm aware of how I can be abusive towards people I still care about. I protect them from myself as much as I can. Hence, love isn't for me in this life. Nor do I think anyone is waiting. I still think of a companion, someone who can accept me and still love all pieces. But I know that's just the last of human desire left in me.

I feel myself weighed down by the burdens of my insecurities, my failures, my regrets, and my shortcomings. If only I could feel happiness again. If only I could have a friend again. If only I could restart this life and try again.