A letter with no stamp

Two days after the day you died they asked me how come I did not shade a tear, you died on a recreational trip five minutes after the ambulance got there. All people on the camp agreed this was an unspoken tragedy. And I did not cry till in the end the guys put their arm arround me and I was officialy allowed to be sad.

The real tragedy is that people do not care about small things or about each other. I will cry my eyes out after every fight I had with people to whom I gave my heart, time and presence though they were not in need of such a thing. It breaks me into smaller and smaller pieces every day to see no point to my yesterday or today. If I yearn for something that does not mean that I will ever receive it. People end up lonely when other people decide that the former do not deserve their time and love. The end.

I hope my road takes me somewhere I can be free, though isolated and limited. If I can never have a home, at least a small spot where I am wanted and needed. Often wondering about all in my life, I came to the conclusion that if there is a job that can be one's life, a job helping people, a job far away from a place where you only ask stuff from people, than it should be mine and me its.

You have a traveller's heart you told me when I explained that I was looking for a new project just not to go home. I wish I could disagree after all those years and tell you I found myself, but all I can say is:

Maybe I do not have a heart, just something that looks like it and is of no service to anyone. May you rest in peace, E.