Mourning

I mourn my life: or the one I thought I would have.

I mourn the guy I had in India, because I never got to say goodbye to him. I never got to sort out things with him, after he refused to answer any of my messages.

I mourn because I never got to be excited with him for the music festival, that he has now organised three years in a row.  I'm so incredibly proud of him, because I know how passionate he is about it.

I mourn the guy I though I would get married to. Because he is now building a life with his wife in an Eastern African capital.

I mourn my body, because I know I can be healthier but I cannot seem to get the energy together to get there.

I mourn my dad, because he was my dad and he is gone. And because I will never hear him laugh again.

I mourn India, my home for six months, because I was happy there and because I don't know if I'll ever get there again.

I mourn my life because my dream of producing news seem far fetched and my attempts to get there seem to be going nowhere.

I mourn my dreams, because I don't know if I'll ever get there.