Oct 29 - Too Early

 It's late. 3.41AM. Or. By pre clocks moved back time. 4.41AM.

A few hours ago I saw Matthew Perry had died. Shocking. And sad. 54 years old, apparently a heart attack in the hot tub. There were, apparently, some strange messages on his instagram in the last few days. I checked them out. They didn't seem to be the messages of someone in their right mind. I wonder about the heart attack. It doesn't seem like it was on its own. I'd bet dollars to donuts he was struggling mentally again. So sad.

I spent a lot of my younger years watching him on Friends. And there have been very grim moments in my older years where I have binge watched reruns of Friends. Its presence a small comfort through some of my darker moments.

It is strange that he is now gone. It's going to forever tinge that memory now. I never imagined he would die. Not in my reasonable life time.

Death sucks. As ever.

Can't quite sleep. Been noodling with a few downloads and installs of software. And somewhere along the way, in a network folder, there was a picture of Ares. On the sofa. And I checked it out. And was sad. And with that picture. Movies. And other pictures. 2019. Not so very long ago. An Athena and an Ares having a bit of a gentle wrestle on the roof.

Another of Ares in the kitchen. So happy. Waggy tail. Always hanging on my every word.

And it hit like a mother fucking truck.

What I had lost. What was missing.

An enormous horrible awful gut punching sadness.

I had lost that big goofy love ball of energy.

You go on. As you do. One foot in front of another. You adapt. And stumble further up the path.

But if I look up. And take stock of where I am. Properly. It is so dark. And I am so sad.

There were a few pictures in there taken at the same time. Of some painting I was doing. Before I was ill. Before I was so shit. And it all hits home. How much I have lost. How far down I am now that I can't do shit. Stuck. In this glimmer of survival. And how bad it has been these last 3 years. Really. Really. Bad.

I hate it.

Fuck this life.

It blows.

It isn't worth it. And I have to ask myself seriously. What is the point going forwards. What ? I am so done. I shall plod on. I have to say that, don't I.

RIP baby boy. I miss you so much.








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