I Want To Die

 I am so miserable. Every day is so fucking long and pain ridden, and I am relentlessly lonely. My body barely functions and my mind is going. I am “kept” downstairs, my wife and daughter living upstairs, which is very painful for me to climb. I am pathetic.  Neither wants to spend any time with me.

I want to kill myself so badly, but oh, … maybe my daughter will want to watch something on tv with me in the next few days (which never fucking happens) … or I can hold on for the next Warrior game, that could be good … or the Niners in the Super Bowl … of course, I have no friends to watch with, no one to enjoy anything with, no one to even spend any time with.

Tonight would be so good for it. There is a big storm coming in. I could abuse what pain meds I have remaining and go out in our hot tub and slit my wrists, maybe blast When The Levee Breaks in some earbuds with a storm raging around me, feel something as I fade.  Maybe I could time In My Time Of Dying and go out to that.  Yeah, I think I’d rather go out to Zeppelin than any of the crap I composed.

Lord knows I experience no love or friendship or anything worth living for. Seriously, why should I endure so much agony when there is nothing but disappointment and loneliness and mind numbing pain left for me.

Why can I not give up?!?! I hate this existence so fucking much. It will not improve, not one bit. I know this. I am fucked. Best case scenario is that I am miserable as all hell for 6 months, maybe make it into next winter in even more pain than I am crippled by now. i wish I could be brave enough to do it. I am tired of crying every time I think on it. I never had a chance to really live.  This life have been such bullshit.

Please let me be brave enough to do this.

The Final Phase?

 I think I am dying.

More specifically, entering the last phase of the life cycle.  I don’t know how long this will last, but everything requires more than I am capable.

I have not left the house yet this year, I think.  Walking has become near impossible.  I don’t think I can even get on my bike.

My memory is failing in all new ways, more like my brain is cognitively impaired.

At a minimum, I am very sick.  I am overheated after 3 minutes in 99 degree spa water when I usually do PT for over an hour in it, closer to 2 hours.

I have zero interest in going to the hospital.  The effort required just to get there is more suffering than I am willing to experience.

Still have thoughts and hypothesis, but can rarely hold them, let alone write them.

The level of fatigue is such that I cannot even regret my life or situation much before forgetting why I am crying, lol.  I hypothesize that is how we end up “accepting” death.  We’d be panicked but we’re just too damn tired to complain.

I made it through the winter.  It is starting to warm up.  I don’t think I will get to enjoy it, unable to function.

A sad story, me.

Screaming in to the Void

I am broken, mentally and physically. I am so angry. I never had a chance. I want to be done. I want to live, not just exist in this miserable reality I keep enduring. i wish I could have known. It is such torture, in pain and isolation, 16-19 hours a day in bed, maybe 4-5 or those sleeping.

First, I couldn’t work. Then, I couldn’t travel. Then, I could not even think well enough to interact on mic. Then, I could barely walk. Throughout, I have tried to keep hope. I’ve tried to help others with what little knowledge I can express. But I am so broken now, so crippled, no one can stand spending time with me.

I am the character from The Beach, slowly dying, miserable and screaming in agony, and everyone else cannot live while I remain struggling, not wanting to die, but unable to live. I will never be comfortable again. I will never feel accepted or safe. This life has been such a cruel experience.

I am taunted by the possibility of moments of friendship that will never come to pass, moments that would make this painful existence seem worthwhile, at least in the moment. I dream and hope for a miracle and all I get is pain. I can’t handle these sleepless nights anymore. I need summer to get here. I need some physical warmth. I have had so little emotional warmth. I am too broken for others to engage with.

Oh, F*** Me

There is a personal nemesis that has, again, fucked with me and sent what little living I have left into ruin.

It can be argued that he is just a clueless narcissist and I was very unlucky, his relationship with my only remaining friends resulting in frustrations for me that I did not react to well.

Yet, one unknown for certain event strikes out, when I was suffering extremely on a birthday, an extreme pain event, and reached out to the only active friend I had remaining on Band, hoping he was not too busy to respond, as he was playing Xbox in a party with that asshole.  He started responding, and shortly thereafter I suddenly lost my permission to post in our Band chat, and that asshole was the Band administrator.  I panicked, and my world got even worse.

I devolved very badly since then, and that day was a turning point to when I became suicidal.

Two days ago, I was having another extreme pain event.  Fumbling at my iPad, I reached my friend’s page on my Xbox app, and realized I could ask him to party with me and use the iPad mic and speakers instead of being on a headset through the Xbox (a physical impossibility at the time, stuck laying in bed, the iPad propped on me chest).  He answered, and for a few minutes, pain started to subside, or I was being distracted from it.

Then, THAT asshole, who I have blocked on Xbox, joined the chat party because he saw one existed with his friend in it.  This same asshole that has fucked with me time and again.  Now, to him, my name was blocked, he assumed my friend was playing with my friend’s wife (someone asshole adores), and he joined the non-private party (my mistake, not using it often at all) of an anonymous user to try to spend time with her.

It triggered the fuck out of me.

I did not react well.  My relationship with my remaining friend was occasionally rocky, as it’s hard to be friends with an insane, lonely, isolated, person in chronic pain.  One aspect has been my complaints about said asshole, and how asshole gets the benefit of the doubt (I was even asked to forget previous wrongs and give him the benefit of the doubt before that Band incident) and I do not.  Admittedly, my reactions to things can be unreasonable, though, like here, understandable, I believe.

I am once again friendless, this time, caused by my reaction to that asshole, once again fucking with me during an extreme pain event.  He was excused by my friend because of his innocent mistake (though previously, he had been told to always ask before joining even a non-private party!).  I understand him being excused, as in not being punished or my friend being mad at him for it, but the cost to me was so much.

How am I so unlucky?  Why do I have to suffer so much?  My friend, our messages sent during the days, is practically the only living I did anymore.  Everything else is suffering, my rehab attempts, loneliness, and isolation.  All I can do now is feel pain and wait for death.

Another Sleepless Night

[song I wrote some 35 years ago.  Wish I’d have died back then]

Spend my whole driving

A race that’s never won

Life is just to long

To not have any fun

Another sleepless night

I wander through a valley

I search a mountain top

Meandering through this world

The loneliness won’t stop

Another sleepless night

Debating over byways

Which road there is to take

In this race without and end line

It’s my will that’s doomed to break

Another sleepless night

Start the Countdown

 It is time to shit or get off the pot.

Adjustments and agony are at an all time high.

I am once again friendless.  Nothing to help get me through the days.  There is only pain.

Now, begin the countdown.  Let insanity reign!

I shall evolve.  I shall unfold my love and become human, become able to rest, to experience life instead of suffer this sensory overload of pain and discomfort.

I have a snorkel.

I will adjust in ways I could not before, no longer able to raise my head from the water to breathe.

It will work.  Or I will die.  I will push until I can push no more.  

I may go crazy.  I may drown.  I may drown laughing.

They say it is a horrifically painful way to die.  They don’t know pain.

This will be the story of me, the occasional genius, the seer of visions, the insanity and loneliness of chronic pain, the hope for relief.

It is time to get reckless.  I have no more will to live.  Only a change for the better can save me now.

Place your bets.  Smart money is on a painful death crying out in rage at those that left me alone in agony, likely underwater.

I wish she would not have been mean to me.  I am too weak now, too old.  They tried to help, but the frustrations of experiencing ME led to treating me like the lesser human I am, disregarding my pain, dismissive of my special needs, lost compassion regarding my pain and discomfort.

Did they believe?  Never.

I would have given them everything.  They would not listen.  I helped them to their greatest joy and they would not trust me afterwards!  The hubris!  They could not trust or have faith in a broken human.  I see paths of how they will fail without me.  I tried to show them the path.  Her choice.

He was the most honorable man and friend I would ever know.  I miss him already.

How with this strange trip turn out?  Will I evolve?  Will I drown and finally know peace?  Will the story ever be known?  What will William think of his mother, the narcissist.

My mother was a narcissist.  My life has been a horror, a tragedy.

I shall know peace and release.  

A Truth

 There is a limit to happiness.

“I couldn’t be happier.”  You have said it, perhaps, and were correct at the time.

There is no limit to pain.

Tempt this reality by saying, “It can’t get any worse.”  I dare you.  See what happens.

I am a cripple with special needs, on the spectrum, and live in chronic pain, ever changing by the nightmare of hypermobility…

     and they, the best friends I had ever known, unable to endure me any longer, became mean.

I hope for death, but I am not that lucky.