The Night Before 35 in 2020 - public

I woke up out of a stone cold slumber at 4am. I was having a dream about sitting in jail and just thinking about all the things I have done wrong and regret in life. Its a common dream theme on top of women in my life murdering me. Now, my mind is racing as I sit in the dark inside my super warm, wood furnace fed room.
I’ve put a lot of thought into my life in the last few years and through cancer, Heather killing herself and Kylie straight up disappearing on me, I haven’t been the same, right and quite frankly, sane person since. Floating through life seems to be extraordinarily convenient and something a lot of people accept daily but there’s days where I am just so tired. Sad. Alone. it sounds silly and vain but I just want to be able to be there for someone and have someone be there for me, and just one person. That’s all I need. I was sober for a year, and I hated it because I was even more isolated, more alone. I started drinking again and then I hated being around the people I was. How do you find someone to love out of the filth that seems to be everywhere? Its a decrepit thought, I know, but it’s one I feel strongly about watching the consistent stream of daily trash I serve alcohol to. Getting recommendations for lawyers for my drunk driving cases from guys that have gotten out of felony assault charges for beating their girlfriends? That is not who I am or want to be but it is something I’ve exposed myself to by my mistakes.

I’ve already been told I was going to die early - cancer should have taken me by now - drinking excessively to run away from life should have gotten me too - diet, lack of exercise - all factors that doctors have told me contribute to the fact that I shouldn’t have made it to 35. I’ve tried killing myself; out of grief, out of self-pity, out of extreme shame - but there’s always a moment where I realize that I can’t do that after fighting a battle for so long, not knowing why I’ve fought for so long.

2018 was tumultuous - another round of cancer issues, a break up, an estranged exes suicide, multiple OWIs. Some things I did to myself, others couldn’t have been prevented no matter how hard I tried, and yet two years later, I still find myself beating the shit out of my body, mind and spirit instead of attempting to find any source of happiness. Well, I guess that isn’t entirely true, I have tried filling the void of attempting to love someone, anyone, and have had more shitty experiences with women than I did when I was extremely overweight, lazy, and unmotivated. The biggest one being a girl I liked that ended up cheating on me for one night and getting pregnant by this other guy. How do we know? I couldn’t have a kid with all the radiation I’ve had in my body yet this girl told me the moon, stars, horoscopes, tarot cards, her back alley drug plug, all said this kid was mine.

So, yeah. I still have a problem being bitter. Hating people. Not wanting to put myself out there thinking that my past has criminalized me to the point that I don’t need or deserve a significant other.

Most of all though, I’m just exhausted, all the fucking time. Sick of hating everyone, everything. Tired of putting up with stupid arguments over shitty opinions of a pandemic, how the country is being run, how utterly fucking dumb humans can be.

Risking my life daily just so some other fuck up can drink 6 bud lights, rip a few jager bombs and go home to beat his spouse. It’s thoughts like that that just make me realize how broken I am inside. There is good in people and there are good people but fuck, its so hard to find when you’re surrounded by alcohol. I wish I didn’t have to drink to forget about my problems let alone everyone else I am surrounded by. I wish sobriety didn’t feel so alone.

Most of all, I just wish I had someone I could roll over towards, put my arms around, and grab tight and fall back asleep instead of having to wake up and write.