HUMANS OF RINGWOOD: Tears

My soul is so sad, it’s angry and drowning in tears.

Tears that spring from a well so deep, it’s so dry, it’s wrung out.

Betrayal is their true source, anguish that springs from betrayal.

Hope, trust, love … Can they really mean so little?

Do we ever really know another’s secret Self?

Yesterday I spoke with an old friend.

He has lived 10 months in this place.

He knows anguish and despair.

Somehow he has learnt to keep living.

He has learnt to love himself again.

He has found purpose, even if it’s temporary.

Today is all he knows. Tomorrow he’ll do the same.

Tomorrow he’ll know tomorrow, when it’s today.

Is this how I will survive? Living in the moment?

Alone?