Facing mortality

If this takes me out, I'll end my run on Earth with an incredibly lonely stretch of road and more struggle than not; and definitely not the end of the story I'd hope to write for myself. I've squandered time just being a deer in life's headlights, afraid to want anything good for myself and sabotaging any potential success. Afraid to live and afraid to die. My internal narrative paralyzing life. Floating in a bubble that love doesn't penetrate. Fuck

Train wreck

I'm not feeling well on so many levels. I deserve it for being a broken brained idiot. I'm just a complete waste of time. I'm not feeling well.

worthless

I absolutely loathe myself.

Just a series

Life has become an endless series of disappointments and let downs; completely pointless at this point.

it's cold out

 

Comfort...It completely evades me. I don't feel good about anything. It's like looking through a window at this great party that I'm not invited to, but I am invited in theory. The reality is I don't feel I connect with people and walk away feeling worse if I join the party, over feeling left out, staring in.


I miss the camaraderie of my younger days and a feeling of belonging that is gone now. I've become a charity case no one wants around and I can't blame them. To think I've been in a perpetual nosedive for 40 years. It has me beat down, and other than brief respites, it will continue to beat me down. The façade is starting to crack and crumble more now due to the realization: It's never going to end. There's no light at the end of the tunnel, just the feeling of treading water with weights being added as time rolls along. There's just quiet desperation, mediocrity, and unwanted solitude from here on out. Hope is gone.

Unraveling at a progressive rate,
tangled in the strands,
tied into a self imposed fate.

Sand falls quicker when it's almost gone,
each grain carrying more weight,
knowing the last will drop before too long.

So much more was wanted,
the mind denied and sabotaged,
the thought of happiness has me haunted.

The color is draining,
joy is harder to come by,
it's always raining.

I'm no fun anymore.



I'm here until this dog moves on to the rainbow bridge, after that I'm done with this nonsense. Forty seven years have been enough. I never feel comfortable with myself and what little bit of love I do feel just makes it all the worse.

I was a complete waste of life.