Today was a somewhat useful day. I wish it was more productive but things just didn’t end up going the way I planned. I don’t know why I bother with making a plan or have some idea of how I want the day to go because it never really ends up going the way I want it to. Like today, I got all the way down to my work just to realized I left my keys at home. I had taken the T because I left my car in the garage at work because my brother in law has become a snow driveway nazi. Car needs to be out so he can snowblowing/shovel and then has to know if I am going out or not so as to not move vehicles after all the snowblowing. No keys means I can’t have access to my office, nor could I move my car to the front garages at work, nor get into my house after work so I go home. I so wanted to STAY home but I had samples to do.
I get to doing my research job and then work in the clinical lab because I agreed to cover someone. That’s all well and good except today most of Boston and surrounding areas were covered in fricken snow so no one went to the doctors, which means no samples. Today felt like a holiday as there was no work but I couldn’t leave cause I had already called out on Monday and needed to make up those hours.
I’ve come to realize that the worse time for me is right when I wake up, because I am still alive and the time it is right before going to my room for the night. I hate my room. I know it’s a huge mess but I don’t have time to clean it. Course, half of the mess is clothing which I have no place for so it just sits any place I can find it. One area of my room has paper stuff, old research articles and the like. I wish I could get another bureau and bookcase for it or some shelves, but I don’t have the time to shop. Even if I did, there is no way I can take it in my little car and carry it anywhere. My alcoves will be blocked and I wouldn’t have access to them. I keep saying one day I will do something but I never do. Even in my midnight madness, I hardly touch. I think in my head where they will go or what to do with them but then I fall asleep or think of something else and poof, idea gone. I dread coming home because mostly I know the psychache will return like it always does and I will once again be thinking of how to end my life. The past few years I have become really creative in the lethal methods of ending my life. I have not thought of a way to get a gun only because I would have to cross state lines and I am not sure I can do that. But knowing about chemicals have helped me. My only regret is that I have not been able to find a place that sells hemlock juice. I found a place that makes the tablets but the amount is so small I doubt it would be lethal enough.
So I was supposed to have session with my idiotic therapist tonight but because of the snow storm she had to cancel. Still pisses me off that SHE can cancel but I can’t. I felt like calling her at home but not sure if she would answer or her daughter. I could have fun if her daughter answered or maybe not. I always toy with these ideas but never fall through on any of them. Guess I am not aggressive enough. She reads these blogs because I no longer write in my journals anymore, which is a shame because I spent quite a bit of money getting these fancy journals that now are just collecting dust in my room. My latest journal that I bought was one of Edgar Allan Poe. It’s purple and leather bound. I had an idea to start a new one with the new year but it hasn’t happened yet. Just this blog. Guess writing is writing whether it is electronic or with pen and paper,huh?
I really want to die. I just hate my life so much and there really isn’t much reason for it. I have a job, a family that somewhat cares, nieces and nephew that I mean the world to, friends that supposedly care about me, co-workers that like me at. My health is ok despite the chronic pain that I deal with, whether it’s physical like tonight or mental. My foot is throbbing like there is no tomorrow and my toes are completely straight, which is weird cause they usually are curled up. CES entered my life almost ten years ago. My anniversary date is Feb 8th. Yet despite all this, I just have no desire, whatsoever to live. I just go about the act of living because I don’t want to cause anyone any pain. So I suffer so everyone else doesn’t have to. Yet I wonder how they would feel if I were suffering from cancer or some other terminal illness. Would they still want me to go on, knowing full well that with each breath causes me pain? Nothing I do causes me to think differently. All my life I never had some drive to live. I’m just not worth it. I am nothing and will always be nothing.
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