Everything comes at a price! Now I’m alone as a stray dog…
This is written by a solitary man past seventy. I wish to share my tale, which may serve as a warning to others.
I reside in a bustling provincial city like Manchester, yet surrounded by strangers. These aging walls of my terraced house long ago lost their warmth, and the streets I once strode with purpose now feel desolate and unwelcoming. No one awaits me, no one inquires after me. Such is the cost of my past…
I gaze into the mirror and scarcely recognize myself. My face gaunt, hair long turned silver, shoulders hunched, eyes dulled. Where is the man who once lived life to the fullest, adored women, reveled in raucous gatherings, and chased grandeur? Where’s that cocksure charmer who believed the world lay at his feet? In his place—a weary, forgotten pensioner…
**Sins of Yesterday**
In my prime, I was a rake, fortune’s favorite. Beautiful women entranced me; I dazzled them effortlessly, then cast them aside just as swiftly. “You only live once—take what you can,” I’d declare. Back then, I thought myself justified.
I had a wife, Margaret—a gentle, patient soul. She endured fifteen years of marriage, though I gave her no peace. Nights vanished in debauchery, returning drunk or with cheap flings in tow. Margaret stayed silent, enduring, hoping I’d reform.
But I refused to relent. I assumed she’d never leave. Where could she go? I was charming, lively, flush with cash. Yet one day, she issued an ultimatum: change or lose her. I scoffed: “And where would you go, darling?”
She knew exactly where. One morning, she packed her things, took the children, and vanished to the opposite end of the country. No drama, no tears. Simply gone—for good.
At first, I shrugged it off. Continued my ways, barely sparing a thought for family. Child support? Paid irregularly, and they never pressed. Once, I mailed Christmas gifts as a surprise. Days later, the parcel returned unopened…
I brushed it aside. “They’ll come crawling back.” But years passed without a word.
**Lonely Twilight – A Harsh Reckoning**
I never pondered old age. Youth felt eternal. Steady work bored me; I chased merriment instead. Hopped jobs, never settling, mocking those who saved or built futures.
Now my “carefree” life yields a meager pension, barely covering prescriptions. A hot meal’s a rarity. Some nights, I sleep hungry—no one to complain to.
Recently, I bumped into an old mate, Thomas. Aged, yet trim and content. He owned a home, had family nearby. Clapping my shoulder, he said:
“Edward… You were king of the castle. Look at you now.”
I choked on my reply. All I have left are regrets. Don’t pity me—my fault entirely.
While others built homes, I drank with fair-weather friends in pubs.
While others saved, I squandered cash on fleeting affairs.
While others planned tomorrows, I chased tonight’s thrill.
Now, when I crave family, I dare not call. Grandchildren might exist—I’ll die never knowing their faces.
**A Belated Plea to Those Who Can Still Mend Fences**
Don’t repeat my blunders. Youth isn’t endless. Family isn’t a given. Cherish those beside you.
Or one day, you’ll stand in an empty flat where even echoes ignore your “Hello”…
