i am insignificant

I feel bad for The Yank.  She couldn't have come to visit at a worst time.

It's not good when Papi and I are depressed at the same time.

Usually one can pick the other up, but we both have shit going on.

Papi is feeling like he has no purpose.

That when he left his job, he left his intent in life.

I've reminded him that when he gets to the Dominican Republic, he will have MANY people to help and he will not feel pointless in this life any more.

I feel insignificant.

Like I just don't matter.

There was a time when I used my music to feel like 'someone'.

I needed that.

I needed to feel like I was loved, even if it was through my craft.

I felt needed that way.

That option left me after the motorcycle accident.

Gone.

I was ok with feeling like 'nothing' for a long time.

However, yesterday really made me realize just how 'nothing' I really am.

I am insignificant.

I'm not needed.

There are a handful of people who love me, and for that I'm grateful, because if I didn't have them, it's times like this that I'd surely disappear.

I tried to say goodbye to a few people at the synagogue yesterday, but soon realized, not too many people cared, so I left in tears.

"We'll miss you," they lied, with a smile on their face.

No, you really won't.

Maybe one day, you'll look at that seat and remember when I'd sit there, but you won't miss me.

I'm not important enough.

That seat will be filled with someone else.

Probably the passive aggressive guy who likes to comment that it used to be his.

Yeah, buddy?

Well, then get your ass there on time and it can be yours too.

Early bird gets the worm.

It was mine.  Not any more.

He can have it with his daughter who really believes the world revolves around her.

Imagine how she's going to feel when she realizes it doesn't?

She'll feel insignificant.

She'll feel like nothing.

She'll feel just like I do right now.

Not very fucking important.

I have no place and it doesn't matter, because there's always someone to replace me.

I just fade into the woodwork like the pretty little wallflower femme I am.

Nothing.

I used to hold people's attention.

Last night, the saddest words I dread to hear came from Papi's mouth, "I wish you were with it like before the accident.  I wish you were lively again."

I had to remind him, "Yeah, morphine will do that to ya."

It's really not good when Papi and I are depressed at the same time.

He hides it so much better than I do.

I just want to disappear.

Oh yeah, right.

That's what we're doing.

Sometimes, I wish I could really believe the positive daily mantras I write here.

i matter and what i have to offer this world matters