Perhaps another ten years

I'm old. It's my birthday this month and I'm not going to celebrate it. Not only have my physical habilities gone; my looks, my physical achievements, etc. my mental prowess is going now too. I feel like a wreck on a rocky ocean. This ship is never going to reach harbour again. I'm not kept shipshape and I'm not loved. Yes, perhaps that's what I feel now and then there's the ship's cat, but otherwise, none. Love is unselfish and should offer one almost unconditional trust and reliability. I'm a ship adrift. The ocean will eventually take me. I hope that it will be sudden and painless. Another ten years, perhaps. First need to send off my dad who's ailing and then I'll be free of his love too. I cry myself to sleep because I'm so unhappy. My job is about as terrible as it gets. Books aren't about books any more, but it's all about events to plan and do. Somehow one needs to cater to people's last hurray on the Titanic and be damned anyone who actually wants to learn any more. Trust the television at face value. That's what we're heading for. I've been foolish there but I've been really stupid concerning my love life. I had a friend once who died alone. Perhaps I'm not heading there but it sure feels like it. There's this constant mirage. Is it a plane or just my imagination? I don't know and I don't care any more. I get to sleep and go to work somehow. I live from day to day. Not happily because there's no destination any more. Culture is as upsetting as ocean dumping nowadays. One doesn't even enjoy anything any more. One can't because there's no-one there and the effort isn't appreciated either. I pet my old cat and I know that she'll probably have five years tops. It makes me all cry, especially the thought that it was all for nout.