Posted: May 15, 08 10:39pm
I'm writing this to keep my heart from pukin' up my very soul . . . I'm dyin' inside and can't tell anyone and can't stop the agonizing aching burning tears that are pushing my eyes out of my head and making it feel like exploding. How can I face another day? What's the point of trudgin' on? I'm disgusted with
this childish charade of pretending that I'm not alone, I mean without another to share life to whom it really matters whether or not I awaken tomorrow. Yes, yes, I know . . . "so many people out there really love you" . . . like they love the memory of a nice day in the park. I feel like a live relic used to confirm a recent memory . . . and believing that people love memories of you makes you "not alone" is like believing in the tooth fairy makes you wealthy . . . nice thought, but, come on . . . ! And I've been reduced to a parasite, dependent on the life around me to sustain me . . . sorry, can't use you . . . nothing worth recycling . . . no useable parts . . . great for the self-esteem. Facing such reality each day is a wretched way to travel. And there's an inevitable grisley end of pain, blood, terror, sorrow, sadness and eventual death after all the above drag out for you and all those you love. So . . . why? Why wait? Why let it drag on and on and on? Why torture those you love with your gory and horribly disfiguring demise? Does it not smack of sadism to allow this to happen? To hang around and force those you love to watch you slowly fall apart, crumble and rot before their eyes, an emotional, financial, physical burden with no justification? I certainly find no satisfaction in the foreknowledge of what is inevitable! I am horrified! I shrink in terror at what my children surely must be facing shortly! And for what? So I may suffer a bit longer? Is THAT within itself not a bit sadistic? Or at least twisted? There is a perverseness to this thing that I face that I can barely contemplate without feeling insanity gripping me from within . . . and that alone forces me to speak, if only in script. I cannot long dwell upon any detail of this ghastly trek without a sense of fragmentation of that which binds my consciousness as a functional whole.
