Welcome to your life they tell me.
In Arabic the word ‘Mat’ means Death/Dead.
My Mat is tattered, in pieces.
Dysautonomia has destroyed every fiber of my Mat.
I had to quit.
I cannot even work from home.
My Brain’s wires are corroded as my heart is working overtime to keep up.
I tried. But, my Benzodiazepine tells me to sleep and forget about my failures.
What’s the point to carry on?
I’m going to die before
I could even afford another Mat.
I’ll be alone, drifting away as my heart stops, my brain ceases, my past, vanishing as if I was never born.
Cover me dead with my Mat because death and dead are two separate beings.
There is only one Goodbye.
And, I’ve experienced them all.