A reason for living

I am suicidal.  I dream of killing myself.  I long for it.  In fact, I have wanted to die for about 20 years.  Almost every morning waking up, every evening drifting off.  My own death.  I don't know why.  I've tortured myself, I've tortured girlfriends with my ramblings. It is weird.

I have tried once. When I was 25, it was a bad year- death, unemployment, destruction of dreams, loneliness. Only I didn't die. Most disappointing.

I have had many near death experiences, but never died.  Never even used my "will to live" as they say in the movies.  I just lived. A bit of a bruise here, a scrape there.

So now is different.  I have actual medical professionals helping me. My own psychiatrist, psychologist, pharmacist, medical doctors, all working for me.   And it still doesn't go away.  Sitting in my room now for days on end.  My writing style has grown dull from the lithium.  My passions have died from the mixture of gabapentin and they have taken away my soothing drink with naltrexone.

So what do I have.

I have facebook.

Well more precisely, I have a friend on facebook who irritates the fuck out of me.

He is attempting to become a politico in his middle ages.  Not very bright during our school days that we spent together, he hasn't gotten any better.  But he apparently has decided to become a right wing conservative. Which is amusing to me, considering that he made it through private religious school on other people's money, joined the army and barely made it through, then he was a druggie (but didn't get busted), and his first daughter was born in a hospital paid for by medicaid.

So this is the ideal for self sufficiency?


Well he now has decided to throw links up on facebook.  I respond.  I respond with gusto. with flair.  sometimes with vitriol.  The anger makes me feel alive.  I am a defender of the weak.  Sometimes, I'm an asshole.

But not always!

And that is keeping me alive.