I thought writing helped me somehow. A creative outlet for the dread and angst in my head. But the truth is, nothing helps and nothing will change the fact that I don’t want to be alive. So, I don’t believe, in the throes of this, I can keep on posting. I feel no joy or pleasure. I’ve let my wife and my kids down time and time again. There is no comfort or respite. I’ve tried, desperately, to believe that life will get easier and that I will find something to hold onto. But I’m misconfigured. Wired wrong. A bad apple.
My family isn’t enough. My job isn’t enough. Life is so overwhelming and there has to be a sliver of satisfaction for me to go on. At least a moment where I can feel good. But I wait and I hope and it never comes. It is time to stop pretending and admit the truth I’ve known for years. It is not worth it. Praying to not ever wake up again hasn’t worked. I’ve done it for years. I don’t know how to go on. I don’t want to go on.
© 2022 Jeff E. Brown. All rights reserved.