The Scenic Route: Day 27

The Boo Radley of Bigelow Boulevard.

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I remember thinking I was actually smiling

Since about 10:30 am Thursday, I have been drunk. 

I had my annual physical. I always knew there was a possibility that my blood work would come back slightly worse. I had no idea it would be that bad.

176 days of 20 pushups a day. Awesome.

Quitting 4 weeks before your annual physical, makes all that work absolutely pointless. 

Writing and hearing that people like my blog is awesome. Giving up because it’s all just so stupid and pointless, isn’t as awesome.

I really want to die of a heart attack. 

I know that sounds extreme, but when you look at the alternatives, it seems like the obvious choice. 

Things to look forward to in the near future.

I can’t think of a thing.

We all have to die sometime. No one gets out alive. It’s just a matter of how much you get to suffer before you die. I can hope that I die peacefully in my sleep, like an extended dream, but the statistics and probability leans toward a more painful and sad end. 

I’m well on my way to cirrhosis of the liver. Just like the first Patriarch of this house, Mr. Thomas Kenyon. He died at Mercy Hospital back in 1921.

I watched some old scare films from the 50s on Amazon Prime. I think I may have syphilis. Maybe that’s what’s been eating away at my brain all these years. 

What if I had stayed in New York. I doubt I’d still be with Steven, but I wouldn’t be stuck in this house. Someone else would be in charge of trying to resuscitate Mom when she has a heart attack. I would just get a sad, tragic phone call informing me of her passing.

—My keyboard is literally fighting me 

—It goes in and out randomly. It’s like the universe just wants me to remember that I’m a joke. 

I really couldn’t even fathom the possibility that my cholesterol would be so much worse. My Doc even told me I was taking it too personally and that it wasn’t my fault. I said, it kinda was. He replied, actually it’s not, and these readings indicate that it is probably genetic.

Why doesn’t that make me feel better? It’s not my fault, but I still feel like it’s something i could have done. Now I have to take a cholesterol fighting drug that can cause muscle aches and pain, in order to prolong my life. For what reason? I know it’s my mental disease, but I can’t think of a single reason. It’s as if I’ve never had a happy feeling in life and any happiness I felt was some kind of illusion. I felt like I was tricked into living. And occasionally I get a glimpse of what life is really like. The blinders get removed and I realize I am actually the butt of the joke. People haven’t been laughing with me, but at me. And can I blame them? Absolutely not. If it wasn’t my life, I’d be laughing too. I mean it’s completely ridiculous and comical. 

I deactivated my FB. I do that often, but I’m hoping it sticks this time. It’s childish and foolish and silly and the modern equivalent of running away from home. It’s a chance to see if anyone really cares about you. If someone bothers to text you to see if you I’m ok. What a stupid and childish way to act. 

I don’t deserve success. I don’t deserve happiness. I’m a privileged white man who has it better than most, but I’m still heartbroken and desperate. Why would I subject another human being to my insanity? That would be cruel. Even if they thought they knew what they wanted, I would know they have to be crazy if they like me or care about me. 

How sad is that?

When I look into the future, I see a lonely, isolated life. After Mom goes, I will shut myself off from the world. I will not leave my house unless I’m forced. 

I’ll probably get 20 cats and they’ll find me in the attic, months after I’m dead, covered in cat shit. 

But before I die, I’ll become the Boo Radley of Bigelow Blvd. The scary house that kids dare each other to run up and touch. 

My brain tells me that this isn’t just a mere possibility, but a glimpse at the inevitable future. 

And if that’s how I spend my time thinking about life, that’s pretty much how it’s going to be. If I had the strength, I would fight my inner cynic, but I’m just not strong enough. 

There are so many people who deserve to live way more than me. 

© 2014