Mar 16

Grim. You are warned reader. My path is not one of light. And even second hand I fear it is corrosive. 

Such are the ways of the deep abyss. The true hellish roads.

This is me scrawling into the void. Thoughts out. My cries of anguish. And pondering the descent.

Not fit for consumption. Perhaps you have your fireproof misery proof pants on however.

Enough warnings. Turn around. Or go on. Your choice.

 

 

Follow up appointment with docs today. He went over the results in very simple terms. As it turned out I already knew what he had to say and more. It felt like a bit of a waste of time in all honesty. The upshot of all of it is, he's going to send me a recommendation of supplements, possibly pills, possibly injections, and also we're going to do further tests on some part of my gastro. It turns out from those results that it looks like instead of absorbing B12, it's getting turned into acid instead. Critically low B12. High acid. Both the product of the same enzymatic process, where they should be balanced, they are not. Implying fuckery is afoot.

We shall see. Maybe. Not that any of it matters anymore.

I managed to haul myself out to the appointment at midday feeling pretty damn shit. I woke up at 10am like literal death warmed over. Groggy. That familiar sucking, tugging, lurching, vacuum feeling in the middle of my chest, like a heart that won't start, and everything squeals in an ache. I turned over. Unable to get up. I tried again in 45 minutes. Shit. But. Better. Less of the kicked chest feeling. But exhausted. Lacking in energy. I could barely face walking upstairs to get my phone.

Came back home and forced myself to stay up. I didn't want to sleep through the afternoon and continue to fuck my sleep schedule up.

Today I have hit a new low. Hopeless. Everything has drained out of my feet, any last vestiges of normalcy or engagement. The last few days have not been good. Today was the worst. I am a corpse walking. I tried playing a game. And instead just stared at the screen. No interest. No joy. Not even a glimmer.

I stared out the bedroom window. Out onto the roof top. That rooftop. Where for so many years Ares and Athena would bounce up and down it, checking out the neighbourhood. Year after year. Good and bad weather. And now quiet. Gone. Just moss on the window. Overlooking a cold day. The world continuing to turn, but for me, it had stopped, all the colours gone, just grey, and sad memories.

An age ago. Ares looks on at Athena on a rainy roof

 

So many sad memories all folded up on top of each other. Losses of people shifting out of my life one by one. Places gone. Things past. Each one a scar. And over time those scars accumulate, so many of them, that all I can feel are the scars and the losses, and the suffering of when I have crumbled and cracked, of the weight I've had to carry, the usual weight everyone has, of work and bills, but also doing that in my fucked up world, the hard way, always the hard fucking way. Trying hard. Doing my best. But no peace for me, no happy ending. Just ever darkening skies and a keenly attuned memory that remembers much of the pain.

I don't want to be here. At all. Not even a little. I am not suicidal. Yet. Ish. But I don't want to live. There is no joy here for me, nothing good, no promise, no hope, it'll all be ok tomorrow, it'll all be better tomorrow. It wont. Yes, miseries can come and go, the doom of depression can shift and lift, and some eventual day can be better. But my life is more than that. Structurally fucked. Structurally, on paper, take out the misery, I have no interest.

Right or wrong, my summary of my life feels like one long increasingly loud scream. It's had patches of niceness in it for sure. Or rather. Patches where much of the worlds shit didn't quite reach me. But. Overall. It feels like one long struggle, one thing after another, no rainbow, no solution, just a grinding attrition that reached insane misery a long time ago, and everything since then has been some form of just bloody minded spite at continuing on. Sometimes more successfully than others.

Today. Lost for what to do. So sad. Guts sliced by those oh so familiar knives of misery, I gave in and went to bed. And instinctively I curled into a ball, and pulled the duvet over my head, and in that moment of pulling into the tightest form I could, it all burst out, overwhelming and I cried big ugly gulps of tears before finally falling numb. Hopeless.

My brain skittered a bit. Dancing on the edge of absolute madness. Been here before. Forget the cart before the horse. Forget depths of depression. Forget not being able to control your emotions anymore. More fundamental than that. Too much. Too much fuckery, too much pain and emotion and dysfunction. The very fabric of your mind starts unpeeling, truly crazy, it all goes sideways, manic, scattered, the "you" that is you is lost somewhere in there, way down, pushed into the depths, it loses a voice at all, maybe a small one in the background, horrified, whilst up front, something else goes on. Single things in your perception skitter in and out and echo manically, 2, 2+2=4, 4x4=16, 16, panic, 16, 16, dark, shadow, death, death, just die, better off dead, die, die, pain, shadow, no, no, no, no, no. Stop breathing. Stop. Tense. Blood in head.

But it is just skittering on that edge. I come back after a few minutes. Not lost to it yet. But it is very close. In there is a pounding hunger for death. In there is a suicidal streak that is wild and crazy and makes everything inside of me hum with how right it feels. The only option. The only answer. It feels. Like the most intense relief.

It is a different form of crazy and suicidal ideation. I've had it before. It is one of its forms. The other is a slower, molasses creep, that slowly expands to fill your horizon with nothing but the end. Moves from theoretical. To inescapable. To compulsive. The compulsive stage is the risky one. Like being caught in the event horizon of a black hole, there is only down.

Random scenarios flit through my head. Of my dad. My mom. My sister. Telling my dad that money does not matter. That I would give everything away just to turn back time. To return things I had lost. All the money in the world will not fill the soul sucking hole in my chest. Money turns to dust. Meaningless.

I think of all the people I know that have died. As ever my ex's parents linger in my memories. Good people. Extended family. I miss them too. I cannot square the equation of death. Repeatedly butting up against it. A terrible waste. Just memories left.

At times now I have a permanent pain in my chest. An ache. Stress ? Misery ? Angina ? GI ? All of the above ? I don't know. It doesn't matter. None of it matters. None. Of. It. Matters.

At times I can see myself, the walking corpse. A bad day following a bad day following a bad day. Everything else being equal, my health continuing to death spiral. On top of everything else ? Ha. No chance buddy. And. It's ok. As Athena fades, so do I. That's ok. I can go for a walk with her one more time. And we can go see Ares. And go for a walk together. And find sticks to throw. And rabbits to chase. And leave all the shit behind.

Perhaps I was wrong about declining after she leaves. I think I'm already there. Not going out. Slumped. Fading as she does. Quick off the mark.

So today has been a terrible day.

My sister has tried to call a few times. I am not looking at my phone. Letting its battery die. My nephew as tried. Are you ok ? Please answer. Worried.

I am ok. Not using phone much. I reply.

I don't want to talk.

I am tired of fighting. I am tired of hurting. I am tired of being sad. I am tired of being run over. Tired of trying. Tired of doing my best. Tired of no hope. Tired of being the one who understands. The one who has to explain. The one who has to fix. The one who can see. I just want it all to stop. 

I fell asleep early this evening. For an hour. Deep. I woke, can't say why. And I remembered. Where I was. Who I was. What was happening. Waking back up into the horror of existence.

Thrilling. 5/5 stars.

I am awake for a while. I might as well write this.

The pain in my chest turns into a stabbing knife. Stab, thump, stab, thump, stab thump. Pulsing.

Cool. Who gives a shit.

 Sunday tomorrow. And then Monday. To the vets. 5.30pm. I will ask his opinion. I do not know. I do not know if I will be bringing her home ever again. And if not Monday. Then it is very soon. She is still fighting. But her body... sigh.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Everything in the end is devoured by time. Tempus edax rerum.

Everything you love eventually turns to dust. And then yourself.

I do not... find it.... an enticing experience.