Empty happiness

Each day, I keep record whether it was a day in which my mother particularly hated me or not. Today was one of those days in which she caused me great suffering.

I woke up extra early in the morning to clean her room before I headed to University. While I was leaving, she stumbled upon my bag. She cried and screamed. She spit all her hate on me. She told me to go. As soon as I reached my destination, I called her. She said she had no time for me. I called her again one hour later, and she screamed at me that I care for no one apart myself.

I guess there is no way to make her have a heart. She is focused on her illnesses, while she is perfectly sane. Physically. I happened to pray for her to know what love is, but no need to say my prayers remained unheard. No wonder. No God is going to hear prayers. There is no God. I carry a cross, because I believe in Jesus; He is my Master. He was abandoned by His not existing God as well as we all do. I see great patience in the person of Jesus: to suffer betrayal, abandonment, insult, injury, harm, and still forgive and die for the cause in great pain.

I do not have much to say about it. I try not to lose my Enthusiasm. I like to think that tomorrow will be another day, with new challenges and new chances. I like to think that, one day, I will be free. Right now I feel empty, even if paradoxically happy at the thought to wake up tomorrow.

With that being said, I close this sad day and I let myself go in the arms of whatever Goddess governs the realm of safe, deep and restoring sleep.