Everyday I’m losing.

Dwindling, waning, unbecoming.
I feel like I’ve lost so much, even when I haven’t gained anything. I wake up wondering where the turning point was and how did I get there. I wake up deciding if I should call in sick from work- it sure felt that way. Someone so empty, just filled with bile. A year-long effort only to crystallize into a memory. Something unobtainable I thought I could hold. Somebody so special I thought I could be with until she cut the rope. I begin to descend.

I’m losing a grip on happiness. The void is growing larger and being patient is destroying my sanity. I want, I need. I kept the words flowing, but the blood remained stationary. They were feelings hidden behind a screen, only translated through my thumbs. I felt maybe a glimmer, a speck of what might blossom into something more could happen. Just another case of drifting souls. They all drifted while I sat, white in the eye, and pondering what could have changed it. I was selfish.

Message after message I plundered deeper and deeper. Aching thumbs, it took an external anxiety to reel me back up. I thought I found happiness again, until the realization set in. I fell. I fell again. It was dark and at its lowest point I sent out a signal. Something caught my eye and I had to make it known. I didn’t care whether or not I descended more thereafter- I just wanted to speak out before I reached a new low.

A reply.

Words turned into sentences. Sentences turned into paragraphs. Paragraphs lead to plans. I’m ascending. Before the scheduled plans happened, there was a meeting. It was unexpected, which I find happens to me frequently. We sat and suddenly our mouths were spewing endless discussions. Ascending, ascending. I’m smiling and everything has a feeling again. The heart is beating, the eyes are glazing. My fingers are rattling and my words are slurring. This is too good to be true.

Everyday I’m losing, but at least when we’re holding hands I’m winning.