It's not my fault your sky is empty or you live in a world without light, without an ocean right in front of you. God's hand has given me this pain, sorrow and absolute misery and I exist, I ask for God's immense mercy that I do not deserve.
There's nothing to be happy about. But I imagine it. I imagine some lavish Moldovian cognac in a white tea cup on a saucer. A brisk day, a solarium of sorts, the rain spitting, small hands, smooth hands, I have one God of my life, those I love, my sister, my mom and dad, my mean old dog. I have those I lost, I can't say their names, an orange slice that tastes like soap, there is no cure for this world, it is dying and God will give me a new world, I will feel good, I will have no pain, no hurt and no loss, my sky is not empty.
I can imagine all of that, being in an awful place mentally, feeling unwell with barely a pulse, hurting physically and emotionally, I can see it, it's real, just as real as my blank sadness, my closed mouth, I don't talk, the angels tremble, the seas aflame, eyes ablaze, I feel sorry for you, I always have, it's all over your face in your pictures, a blank sadness, that's what it feels like.