Life sucks today... and yesterday... and they day before that...

I am dying. And I know that I am dying. My body is systematically shutting down piece by piece and no matter how hard I try to fight it, it will not stop. It’s hard to face your own mortality, especially when you feel like a prisoner trapped inside of your own body. I am depressed, and I am in pain, and I am lonely. Even in my own house surrounded by the people I love the most, I feel so alone all of the time.

I can’t talk to them about it. And even if I could they wouldn’t want to talk about it. For my friends and family, the idea that I am a mere mortal is somehow unfathomable. I should live forever and pretend that I am not dying. Maybe if we ignore it, it will go away. Maybe if we fight harder, it will stop. But don’t you dare give up! You are not allowed to give up.

It would have been so much easier if I had lost my mind first. At least then I would not know what was going on. I would gladly welcome insanity if it meant not fully comprehending the reality of the present. I would choose death before deciding which part of me I want to sacrifice to save the other, yet that is exactly what I am doing. Too many people depend on me and I made a choice years ago that no longer allows me the luxury of the self indulgence of death.

I am smiling on the outside but on the inside I am screaming, calling out in vain for help, for mercy, but they never come. I awake in pain every morning as a reminder that is my life. I want to run away but I know it would do no good. I simply cannot shed my body and run away. This monster lives inside of me. It is taking my body and destroying my soul one poke at a time.

I can scream, and I can cry, and I can throw things, and I can fight this, but it would still be here, this monster inside of my body. I cannot escape it, and I am not yet ready to give into it. So what do I do? I am so tired of doctors and specialists and nurses and medications and needles and … I am just tired. I keep running the gauntlet and I keep fighting and at the end of the day I am left wondering if it is even worth it. Is it worth the energy and the pain and the side effects? Is it worth giving up my life, everything about me and everything that I was, trading it all in to be the patient? Doctors are working diligently to save my life but I ask what life they are saving? Who are they saving because it damn sure isn’t me. I do not know this person I have become. I do not like this person that I have become, in fact I hate this person. I mourn the loss of my old self. Yet it’s her reflection I see when I look in the mirror, another reminder that this is really happening.

Why does life have to be so damn hard all of the time? Why can’t I get good news from a doctor just once? Why can’t I wake up and not feel the weight of the world closing in on my and watching it shatter and fall piece by piece? Am I ever going to wake up from this nightmare? How much can one person endure before they reach the breaking point and just lose it?