Suffering, No—Weariness

My life has no goal, nowhere for me to arrive. I'm just forcing myself to stay alive. Living out of habit. It's so painful to get through each day like this, without purpose. And I can't tell anyone about it either. If I did, they'd say I've lost my mind.

How much longer will I keep up this act? With how many people will I have to pretend—I don't know. And you've caused me so much pain over these meetings, these phone calls, that now I don't even want them anymore. Just the thought of you coming around fills me with dread. Since giving me time is such a problem for you, I pray to Allah during namaz to break this connection between our hearts. You've tormented me so deeply that I want to die.

I couldn't have lasted this long, really, if we hadn't had our conversations about writing. Maybe I would never have written at all if you hadn't encouraged me. Anyway, I've closed off yet another path for talking with you. This is your gift to me.

Didn't I once have some claim on your time? I think I did. Why didn't you give it to me, if you hadn't done anything wrong? You know how alone I am. I can't connect with anyone, can't talk to anyone, and still you wouldn't give me time. You don't know what suffering there is in this solitude; how much anguish—you don't know, and maybe you never will.

I'll try not to bother you. This option of writing letters is my last resort, nothing else remains. You can close this off too if you want, so I can never reach you from any direction. You've already taken everything away.

During my loneliest hours, you always run away. I don't ask for anything out of desperation. When I need you, you're never there for me.

Listen, I'm living with great difficulty. Remember what you said once—that you have no motivation to live? I don't know how badly off you are. But I truly have no reason to stay alive. I just can't die because I lack the courage.

You know, time won't pass. I wonder, why are days and nights so endlessly long? Why did I really come to this world? What is my work here? Why must I force myself to live? I exist with such weariness, surviving each day in exhaustion.