Months have gone by with me scribbling in my journal and not putting anything in blood here. It is time. I have fucking had it. How many times do I say that, how many times do I trudge along thinking it is going to get better and opening my mouth only to know things don’t change, people don’t change. Things will never change with me. I am stuck in fucking quicksand in a bog of shit in a place called hell. I wish I would just stop breathing so it would all go away. I wish I had the guts to put a bullet through my head or down a bottle of pills and say I have had enough, shrink back into a a hot bath and while they were releasing me gently I could slit my fucking wrists open and bleed the fuck out. I have nothing in life but the distraction I create for myself. Nothing means anything. I look at the shit around me, It all means nothing anymore, It could wash away in a flood and I wouldn’t feel a thing. All this shit I myself have brought into my life, shit I used to love, books, furniture that has been handed own to me, a table my grandpa ate his breakfast at, He loved me, the people who are gone are the ones that loved me the best. And her of course. She is gone too. She hit her mile marker of a year not speaking to me, found another love for sure, telling her the same lies and making her the same promises. No closure for me. No goodbye, Hell she wouldn’t even respect me enough to block me so I couldn’t contact her. She wanted to know I was suffering, Suffering in this fucking life I chose.

Some days I look back and clearly see the mistakes one by one I made that got me here. The choice to stay 8 yrs ago when I should have walked out. The decision to allow my life and love to be shared until it blew up in my face and I was then despised by both people who I thought loved me. Maybe they did. The decision to move again and think things could possibly change. I was fooling myself and see that now. Some days it is all just a blur I am am astounded at the time that has gone by and it all makes me feel useless, worthless and bored. When I was healthy, when I could get up in the morning and function like a person instead of some half invalid. Just enough ability to understand that I am drowning but no strength or will to do anything about it. No money, no job, no income to say ‘FUCK YOU’ and walk out and know I wouldn’t be sleeping in my truck. And believe me when I say, I have seriously thought about that, It would be better waking up in a truckstop parking lot in my truck full of anything I have left I care about, than to be waking up in a bed I don’t want to get out of because I know it is the same day over and over, unless it is a weekend day, then it is a shit storm waiting to collapse inward on me. I have no one to talk to, when I try to reach out to anyone I regret it after. No one understands my daily hassle, the struggle to deal not only with my self, but to deal with someone who is over it as much as I am but hangs out only to make things more miserable. Sure, I told him I am leaving..he says go. He says he wont leave, it will have to be me, he says this because he knows how sick I am and not able to work, full well knowing no one would want me to burden their life like I burden his. The icing on the fucking shit cake is when he tries to be somewhat kind, it only aggravates me further. How many times do I have to say “I don’t want to be touched, I don’t want to touch anyone”? That makes me selfish he says, I am selfish? That is the biggest fucking laugh. My whole life all I have done is for everyone else. As soon as I ask for something for me, or rest for me I am selfish. Then he drinks, which I never cared about, now I don’t care for. He gets stupid, slurring his words and talking shit or acting like an ass..before passing out after pouring a new drink he sits and nods his head around half in and out of stupor, I have to leave the room because I may scream. God forbid I say anything, he has that mean ass look and then gets nasty, saying nasty things, name calling, up until he passes out, he thinks he is fucking hysterical, his Mom thinks he is so adorable. She knows better. She doesn’t even try to write to me anymore because she doesn’t want to know about what I write back. Which is all truthful, but better to go through life with her blinders on believing her son is gods fucking gift and he is a victim. I am positive she blames me for his depression of late, me being sick, being a burden, oh how sad for her boy. Cut me a fucking break. He has NEVER been happy, I was always the optimistic one, He was opposite but when I was well it was a balance. He hates his job, now then, forever..always has, always will, I always dealt with it and listened, I am done listening, I don’t care, But because his mind is now focused on money, all he and his mom talk about is money and what is spent, earned, taxed, lost, it is just fucking stupid. Her interference into my daily life is hateful and because he allows it, it continues, because he pays the bills and that is all that matters. I try to leave and take the dog out or shove headphones deep into my ears with the music so loud my ears may bleed. His financial support far surpasses his emotional and mental support, which i now realize he isn’t even capable of. To him as long as he brings home the money he is a fucking lord and master. Never mind he can call me cunt and selfish and tell me how fucked up I am..he is fucking perfect in his own head.

I thought living a house mates, living separate but together, just trying to be friends would work, It hasn’t, It wont. We cannot even be friends. I grow to hate him more and more, he grows to despise me and instead of doing what is best and ending it, he chooses to stay and keep destroying me. I cant say a word because he flips the fuck out, every tiny thing becomes a massive argument. He says I belittle him because I had to yell his name so he would wake from his drunken stupor for dinner. If I hadn’t woken him I would have been in trouble, I would have not been taking care of him. I have told him I am done feeding him when hungry like a fucking baby, If he is hungry eat. It is an ongoing thorny fucking tangleweed that grows, I am expected to cook for both of us every night and all weekend long, but is he gets up to make something he wont even fucking ask me if I want anything. He will cook lunch on the weekend for himself and not consider that I would like lunch too, yet every meal I cook, if it is just for me he freaks the fuck out..actually I have NEVER just cooked for me even if it is toast I have to ask or he goes ballistic. On a rare occasion he will spend time cooking, and that to him should make up for all the other times he doesn’t. I end up with the trashed kitchen mess to deal with. I don’t even want to go into the messes he creates that he would think I am overreacting to but that drill on me like a dentist using a Makita to remove every tooth from my head.

ALL this petty shit kills me..I am done. I suffer in silence and when he is gone I cry. I scream, I can get in my truck and scream my fucking lungs up. I wake crying missing all the love I had that was real and gave it up, walked away for the right reasons, but ripping out my own heart in that decision. I go to bed in tears, cry in the shower and when he is not here I cry out loud and hard. If I hold any of this in for longer I am scared what I might do. Do I suffer a hateful life for another 15 yrs or however long he is around, or end it fucking now for myself. Not like my family would care. I cant talk to any of them, the kids who were my life for so long are now too busy staring into iPhones and iPad screens and cant even send me  text message, or respond to one I send. This past Xmas is the last. I will not ever acknowledge it again for any of the ingrates. I don’t get any thank yous, no response to even receiving a box, It has been ongoing , but this last time was IT. They wouldn’t miss me in the least. the older ones would say I was sic and crazy anyway, and the younger ones would just forget me.

I think about it every day. There is no getting it out of my head. I live in shit, I live in a life I created and must endure till I die or runaway or kill myself. There is no hope on a horizon or happiness in my future. Every waking moment I know everyone would be better without me and I would stop over thinking and self destructing. If I could disappear without a trace I would. I consider that an option.