himom

I’m not depressed, sad, angry, hurt, drunk, high or self-injurious... I’m just tired of boredom, misery and wasting. I’m homeless in a vehicle that doesn’t work in a parking lot that’s not precisely safe.

The following is text of an email to the only person I know, my mother:

9 years of living homeless is enough. I have no purpose and no future. I have to stop idling and face reality. I have nothing, am nothing, provide nothing, can’t interact with people and offer nothing. I’m tired of all of it. I don’t have anything to do and refuse to do pointless “painting for dementia patients” meaningless “work” that doesn’t change anything. I can’t think of anything worth doing, I can’t think anymore (cognitive decline) and I don’t have any means to do anything if I did. It’s not your fault, it’s bad genetic dice and my fault for where I’m at. My mind is failing, my health is failing in multiple ways and I can’t keep delaying the inevitable.

I wish this didn’t have to be so but wishing doesn’t help the facts. I’m a parasite whose lifecycle needs to expire sooner rather than later, so you must let me go. There is no viable alternative that I can think of that I could live with. I don’t want to live in this failing world anymore and I’m failing too. There’s nothing for me here or anywhere. I can’t build anything, I can’t do anything, I can’t have friends, I can’t have a family... so I don’t want to live.

It’s over.