Beyond Repair.

Whom was I kidding? I’m beyond repair as it is. I don’t even know what or whom I would want to be better for. I sure as hell ain’t gonna go back to helping “the man” go about making their insane amounts of money on the backs of the rest of the planet, people included. I’m not an altruist, either, and I can’t be bothered with any kind of “for the common good” idea. There is no such thing as common good as human beings don’t understand concepts, ideas, let alone ideals. We’re mammals and have proven throughout history that all we care about is the triple F rule. I got two Fs down, although at meager levels, but so what. The third F I don’t even give as much as an F about any longer. So I’m not really missing anything. Or let’s say: I’m missing everything that makes life worthwhile. Or should I say could have made it worthwhile? Because I feel that it’s over. I’m a hollow shell and the nourishing that could have avoided that never happened. And won’t ever happen again now that I’m approaching 50 fast. So why bother?

Besides – I can’t get access to the kind of help and therapy or medication options that would bear a very small chance of getting me better. But even if I did – I’d have to reiterate: What for? I don’t see anything worth being around for any longer. Don’t get me wrong: This is not about being a wuss. About being weak or trying to avoid bucking up. I don’t see … the point of making the effort required to get to… where? What’s on the other side of that equation? I won’t give myself permission to fall in love again. I had it there. It happened and busted up in my face enough times to know, I don’t need that experience again. Or the ensuing “relationship”. And I’m putting it in quotation marks as I won’t have such a thing. Ever. I’m incapable of opening up to the extent of where a relationship can establish. Or feel like one to begin with. The closest I ever got with that was with my ex-wife. And it’s even a miracle I should have allowed myself to go this far after having gotten dumped every time before. I felt, this was it. This was, what everybody else must be talking about, what movies, books and poems are about. Love. Being close. Having a dear partner in life to go through it together. About sharing. And caring. All of it. And then… it fell through. Like all other relationships. But this last time broke not only my heart, it broke my spirit. And I haven’t recovered from that. And I no longer have confidence that I will. Because the help I would require in order to come around from that is unavailable to me. I’m trapped and stuck between a rock and a hard place, as the expression goes. I’ve been doing my best to nudge the rock, so it will roll away from sitting on me. To no avail. It looks as if I have really exhausted available options. And I no longer have faith in making things happen for myself and by myself, like I did in earlier years. I used to employ all the negative feelings that engulfed me to propel me into action – action from despair, mind you, taking the bull by the horns, that kind of thing. But since I got bullied away from pretty much every place I put all my effort in… I am now horrified by the prospect of getting rejected again.

Checkmate. Game over. I wish there was legal euthanasia in my country.

(for clarification: So far, I’ve been kicking myself in the butt to keep going by visualizing myself as a happy person. I can’t… even see myself as that any longer or access those places that might give me a remote sense or idea of ‘happy’.

Further clarification: I am constantly exercising and applying thing like this.)


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