Now

I read a quotation; "Life is a sexually transmitted disease with a 100 percent mortality rate." It's terminal, it won't be much longer until I'm gone, and I can do whatever I'd like, courageously fight, gracefully accept; either way, it ends the same. Tonight, I better understand 'now.' Now is all that matters. Now I do not have a significant other. Now I do not like my job. Now is how it ends for me at any given moment. There is no potential, there is no would have. I would not have been a great mother or a wonderful wife. A recognized artist of any ilk. I am everything I am ever going to be right now.

Suicide is often called a permanent solution to a temporary problem but that quotation can probably be attributed to an optimist, someone who doesn't understand now. Someone expecting happiness around every corner, precious metals in every heavy cloud. They always stake their argument for sticking around on uncertain outcomes. They can't assure you that one day you won't feel so low, that you'll have that thing you want from life or find something else. They want you to hold out just in case life doesn't plan to continue shitting on you. That is not a particularly compelling argument especially since it ends the same no matter how you play the hand you're dealt. I want to believe this all matters but it is hard for me to look at my life with any degree of objectivity and feel it is terribly important that I am here. I am just treading water waiting for something to happen. And nothing is happening. At this point, I might gag if something did. It would be too kitschy. I'm certain I would gag.

Yes, I have friends but they have lives that do not revolve around me, nor should they. They have significant others, their own families, I'm grateful to even be a part of those constellations. But it's just a part. My point, however crass, is that people would get over it. They have to. Life demands it. I would not fold my own hand-- primarily because it would hurt my parents immensely and I wouldn't want that for Baloo. Not because she's so into me (she isn't) but because I'm not sure where she would go and the thought of her not being taken care of hurts my heart. So I'm stuck here. And it sucks. And as of now (and then), there is no reason to suspect it will ever be better and platitudes to the contrary are insulting. You don't know if anything good lies ahead but I know for sure what has already happened so hope quietly to yourself for better but please don't ever say it will be better.

Sometime between now and tomorrow, I endeavor to find a well of resolve to make nice with life until it does me in. Hope I'm getting close to fuck everyone and everything. It would be such a relief not to care.