Diary Entry of an Old Man

Tic-toc, tic-toc. Strange thing that…when you know it’s time. A fretful night I had, brought on by the howling of the October winds, which in hindsight seemed meek compared to the storm that blazed inside of me. Knowing too little, too late. The pain of regret. The pain of words unsaid, of love rejected, like a contorted monster longing to be understood.

No turning back now. I will take my choices with me to the grave. It won’t be long now. My eyes though misted, suddenly see clearer now, the reality of my misshapen existence, as I huddle hear by the light of the dying embers, waiting, still waiting.

Tic-toc, tic-toc. Strange thing that…when you know its time. Today I found myself noticing for the first time how dark my old stone shack has become. The murdering ivy had all but blocked out me view of the world. Strange thing that…

But nobody will miss me when I’m gone. Fear has kept me tied up for so long, that I can’t breathe without it. Me mind has been playing tricks on me lately. Sometimes I think I hear her sweet voice, often when I’m dozing in me old crooked chair.

A crooked old chair for a crooked old fella, that I am. Only fit for firewood when I’m gone. The torment of life not lived, of chances not taken. Let the dawn not come. Tic-toc, tic…


May 11th 2020

Olivia O’Keeffe