Dying Without God
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Dying Without God

29 Sept 2018 — Update

It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life …

Well, no topic du jour, just wanted to talk.

I’m feeling a bit symptomatic this evening. (That’s code-speak for “depressed.”) I’ve been feeling that way a lot lately. I started crying while making a microwave dinner, for no reason.

And angry. I have random outbursts of anger over the smallest things. I’m sure that My caregiver has noticed. I just know I’m going to break something one of these days, and then just keep on breaking things. There are nights I have trouble getting to sleep because I can’t stop thinking about things that piss Me off. Usually all these “alt-Christian” idiots.

I decided to take a break from Fakebook today. They were hacked (again…) yesterday and I just find Myself spending way too much time on there doing nothing of importance. I have a few true friends. Hopefully they will pick up their damn phones once in a while now. Or if not, hey, more people leaving Me alone. You get used to that after a lifetime of being abandoned.

I’m noticing the little things more and more that I can’t do quite as well as I used to. I’ll forget details, miscalculate numbers, use the wrong words. “Everybody does that now and again,” I can hear being said across the microfibers of the Internet. I don’t. At least, not this frequently and badly.

I may have talked about this before, I can’t remember, but … oh hell, what was I going to talk about? I can’t remember. When I was drinking, I could just say “Hey, I’m drunk or hungover or can’t wait to have a drink.” I had an excuse. Alcohol was both the cause of these mental problems and a convenient way to justify having them.

Well, I’m not drinking any longer. And it’s getting worse. I want it to stop getting worse and it’s not stopping. I’m almost in tears again now. I’m not crying because I’m dying I’m crying because I’m getting stupider. Someday I might not be any smarter than the POTUS, and that scares the shit out of Me. Shoot Me if that ever happens, ok?

And weaker, physically. It’s a struggle to take a shower most mornings. Walking around the building? Major undertaking. Walking to the corner store (a trip I used to make daily in about ten minutes round trip) is now something I have to work up to and even then take a number of breaks on the way there and back.

I feel like I’m treading water, just biding My time until I get stupid and die. (Hopefully the latter sooner than the former.) I cook — a LOT — but there’s nobody here to appreciate it. My caregiver is “a picky eater” (her words) and won’t eat or even try anything I make.

Actually that’s not entirely true, on a few occasions I’ve begged well enough (or curiosity got to her) and she did sample My cuisine. I thinking maybe four times. Twice she said it was pretty good (which I’m thinking was probably NOT just her being nice) and twice she nearly exploded because of the spicy heat. I do like My food spicy sometimes. A lot of the time. I really like mustard, too. I cannot find mustard that is spicy hot enough for Me, so I make My own. Yes, you heard Me, I make My own mustard.

Nobody around to appreciate it. I’m glad I do it because I like to do it and am not dependent on the opinions of others to validate My culinary creations. But it would be nice, y’know, once in a while, to get some honest feedback. I’m almost to the point of inviting to dinner people from the church I used to go to. Or hell, some of the food I make I could just make a lot and go feed some homeless people. Or families that don’t have enough to eat. Not sure how I’d keep it warm, but maybe I can try making stuff that’s best served at room temperature.

I did finally break down and try a dating site this month. Oh My sweet Caroline, those are a fucking waste of time. At least the one I tried was, the one for people over fifty called “Ourtime.com” Free to sign up … but oh, yeah, you have to pay to read any messages people send you. And then every fucking time you send a message you get a popup asking for more money to see when the message has been read. And every time you log on it wants more money to “promote” you in the listings. And not gay-friendly at ALL. I canceled My membership after two weeks of that money-hungry bigoted bullsite.

Geez, dude, all I want is for the universe to work exactly they way I want it to. Is that too much to ask? Am I setting My goals too high? I guess so.

Don’t worry, I’m laughing on the inside. Deep inside. Not even I can hear the laughter.

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