What Makes Life Worth Living

They never write back. I see little chance she ever will.
She's not a writer. Even if she does write, she does not write to me.
I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of being there alone.
The world's not fair to me, to my ilk.
I accept my aloofness, but I don't like it.
I don't think it's fair. But I know it is fair.
I know I have alienated myself and I know I'll be alone from now on.
So be it, leave me to it. Quit looking over my shoulder.
No one is coming. No one ever will.
Be kind. Be nice, but don't think that will ever be enough.
She's not calling. She's not writing. She's not really there.
The whole idea was a sham.
I get this way every Spring. What's the matter with me?
When will I learn?
I guess I'll never give up hope and that's what makes life worth living.