Self Pity

This is a piece I wrote many years as an exercise for a writing group. I hope you enjoy it.

This is a short piece I scribbled many years ago as an exercise for a writing group, the task was to write something related to the subject of self-pity and we had thirty minutes to write it. I hope you enjoy it.

I sit here, sandwich in one hand, scalding coffee in the other.

I sit watching people and life pass me by in the fading light, my mood languid, drifting, my mind blank, gaze fixed into the middle of nowhere. No one sees me, no one knows me, my fellows pass anonymously, their busy lives a grey blur, a never-ending rush.

The cool autumn breeze caresses my face and shudders the trees, their frail leafs sighing in soft tones, the quiet blue sky fails to warm my faded ardour, my life and stature are nothing in the face of the world.

I wish to be among the passing crowds, I wish that they knew me as I know myself and saw my world, if only for an instance.

Around me squat, grayscale buildings of ambition and money are replete with serious faces, bored with routine and status. Their goldfish bowl windows a busy jumble of card and paper refuse. Their world in a glass partition.

I am on the outside dreaming of a way in, the fascia blank and indifferent, excluding me.

I sit and wish for direction, a step forward, a helping hand.

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2 thoughts on “Self Pity

  1. Thanks Chip, I was working in the City of London at the time, it’s a blur there, especially at rush hour.

    Like

  2. Thank you, Peter – all too easy if alone with a coffee in a public place to fall into an accumulation (can I say that?) of self pity. Your piece catches that mood. Chip

    Like

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