There is hope, just not for me.
On surface everything's fine. I have a great job. I live in a clean apartment that's paid for. I have friends that love me. I exercise. I have a loving, healthy family.
I'm heavily disabled. Only physically; maybe a bit of mental illness, but who doesn't these days. I live with my elderly mother, who isn't getting any younger. She cares for me. I care for her. We have a peaceful, loving life.
But she's getting older. So am I. Things we used to do, we can't anymore. I have a great salary, but it isn't enough to afford someone to care for me. She can do it, she's strong as an ox. But it's slower. More difficult. More painful.
I'm 41 years old. I've never known romantic love. I don't think I ever will. I am neither charming or pretty enough that someone would overlook the glaringly obvious disability. And, it wouldn't be fair to them, either. To be a caretaker. Besides, I barely leave home, anyway.
I see her getting older and wonder about my future. I will be going to a home, I think. Wouldn't it be funny, working from a nursing home? I'd have to; how else would I pay for it?
I see a future and it's bleak. Gray. Lifeless. Pointless, even. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother at all. It's funny, in a way, because I play gacha games, one in particular I am very fond of. It's tragically pathetic that it's love of the game that keeps me going. Can't die before this banner drops. Or that one. Or...
And so I get by. Day by day. Adrift and wondering.
Why do I even bother?
I don't know. I just don't.