My Wasteland

For days I have wandered through this desolate wasteland. Not a soul in sight. One doesn’t realize how quiet the world really is until you are truly alone. You begin to question your sanity. I like to think that maybe if there was some life, even a stray dog or cat, then I wouldn’t feel so alone. Alas, there is none.

I’ve known people who would be happy to be alone, though I doubt even they wouldn’t like being as alone as I am. I, however, was always a social person. I loved talking to people and meeting new people. At work I would often find myself conversing with a coworker for far longer than I should have, but alas those days are long gone.

In the early days I spent my time reading the piles of books that I had amassed over the years, but that only lasted so long. I can remember my wife and I sitting in our armchairs reading for hours, with little care of the crazy events happening outside our cozy little home. Sadly, she was the first to leave me. Before I found myself lost and wandering in this wasteland, she passed after a long battle with cancer. She was my guiding light, the only one who could tame the rage that quelled inside me. Without her, I found that most people just irritated me. I was angry all the time, much like I was when I was younger. I often consider this the start of the end.

Our adult children loved their mother dearly, and they took her death hard, as did I. We mourned together, but slowly I found that they came around less often, always so busy with the lives that they had made for themselves. They used to check in on me from time to time, but with their busy lives I couldn’t blame them for not wanting to waste the time on coming to see the bitter old man I had become. It would have been nice, but I understood.

Now I spend my days only talking to myself and let me tell you that I am not as much of a conversationalist as I was in the days before. Now I find myself talking to you, though I don’t even know if you are real. It’s nice I guess to have someone other than myself to talk to for a while, though I suspect that you, like everyone else, will leave me too, all alone.

Every day I wander this wasteland and every night I cry myself to sleep. It’s been this way for a couple years now. Every day I manage to scrounge up some food so that I don’t starve to death, though, sometimes I wonder if death would be easier. One might think that suicide would be a reasonable way out of the situation I found myself in, but I’m too much of a coward to do it.

You see, while I was never a religious man when things were normal, I have always thought that if there is a heaven, then I didn’t want to risk losing my chance to get in. Though, as I traverse this wasteland I question now more than ever if there really is a God. For if there were a God, why would he let me suffer like this. Alone, questioning if there was more that I could have done to change the world I found myself in. No, if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t really believe that there is a God, but what if I’m wrong. I can’t take the risk.

Today, like every other day, I stare out at a world that I do not recognize. Our world has always been chaotic, but in the last couple of years everything got more chaotic. Some say it was the president’s fault, but realistically it was our fault. We the people, gave him the power to destroy life as we knew it. Now, things will never be the same. Do I think that if someone else had been in his place that things would have been better, maybe, but I doubt it. I think our race has always been doomed to destroy ourselves. In the end, he was just a person to blame when shit hit the fan. A scapegoat.

Unlike every other day, however, I heard a strange voice. At first, I thought it must have been an angel, come down from heaven to rescue me from this wasteland, but then I realized it was the voice of my nurse.

“Martin,” she began, “guess who has come to visit.”

I turned to look behind me, and there standing in the doorway with my nurse was my daughter and her two kids. For the first time in months, things seemed clearer. For a few short hours, I have escaped my wasteland.

My daughter, who looks so much like her mother that for a short moment quells the fire inside me, approached my perch staring out the window of the nursing that I have dubbed my wasteland.

“Hey dad,” she says as she hugs me, “sorry it’s been so long since we last visited.”

“It’s fine,” I lie, “I know you are busy.”

I could never tell her how sad I am when she or her sister doesn’t come to visit. They think I am better off here than I am on my own. Maybe they are right, but at least when I was at home, I was comfortable. I didn’t have to talk to ghosts, or whatever you are.

Suddenly, a fit of cough came over me. I looked down at my hand and saw a splatter of blood. I quickly wiped it on my pants before my daughter could notice it. Looks like I may be joining my wife sooner than later. Finally, I can escape this wasteland. Hopefully it doesn’t take me as long as it did my wife to succumb to this illness. I only hope that it ends quickly so that my children do not have to suffer in watching me waste away.

Today, I have escaped the wasteland I have wandered aimlessly, lost and alone. Today, I will enjoy what little time my daughter can give me. Tomorrow, I will return to my wasteland. Tomorrow, maybe the last time I have to wander my wasteland, but I doubt that my journey will end so soon. I can only count the days, until death comes to visit me.