I have days where I do wonder and fantasise and think yeah, why bother.
No one cares, my life is pretty much a train wreck anyway.
I don’t have many days that I like/enjoy.
I find people selfish, greedy, self obsessed, liars and users. In the main I don’t want or need their shit, their validation or approval, I don’t need their judgement or to try and meet any of their standards.
I try and protect myself, minimise where I have to, stay away from the daft stuff.
Generally I don’t drink, I don’t expose myself to a lot of stuff. I keep my Facebook fairly sane.
I try not to tweet the highs or rather the lows, the blows and the real nonsense that upsets me.
I keep away from things that I don’t think help. I realised with my diagnosis for Aspergers that few cared or bothered. After all, my number is there. It’s not changed.
It’s nice not to have to bother with social drinking. It’s inevitably a slagging session and the last few times I’ve did it, I’ve wondered why I’ve bothered.
There’s no one to be a confidant or a shoulder to cry on. My burden is mine and it’s my job to deal with it. Suck it up big man. There’s no one mopping up behind me.
And that brings me to why I don’t give in, why I might have the thoughts and the darkness and say ‘fuck that’ – I know it’s depression and I know it’s low mood and I know that there’s other things to think of.
I live for my children. They are my point and my reason and my light, they are the ones I want to see and be with, they are why I try.
To actually try and kill yourself is pretty selfish and it’s no triumph, there ain’t anything better on the other side. It’s just beyond my thinking to be that indulgent or that stupid.
So yeah, I’m a big huffy bastard. I know it and I don’t really give a shit. I’ll find my way. Things might get better, they might not. I survive and continue.