I keep praying for the end amidst the never-ending flood of tears. I simply cannot stand being alive. For the most part. Pleasant interruptions happen, like spending a couple of hours with my two beautiful angels. Or talking with my dear old friend for a couple or three hours on the phone. But it’s all so fleeting.
I am certain, beyond any doubt, that my life will never have any more pleasure than what’s mentioned above. I am convinced that I’ll never see my nieces again, at their choice. I’m blocked and have been for a long time.
I have near zero social abilities and my physical and economic situations rule out so many things.
Therefore, nothing good will come this way. Nothing at all.
But I need to stay alive to administer the hut so that things keep rolling. It is so odd living for an hour of soul soothing a week. It keeps the tears flowing, though. No shortages there.
I discovered more skills that I’ve lost the other day. Skills that could’ve, at least theoretically, provided some occasional money. It was unpleasant.
God. God help me. I am a total failure. In my humble opinion. I have only one real accomplishment and I even screwed that up a few hundred times along the way. That’s why I say total. I have never done anything right. Ever. After fifty plus years, it is so grating on the soul.
And it’s never going to get any better, barring some miracle dealt personally by God. And like friends and family, ain’t nobody got time for that.