There are times (and this is one of them) when I just think to myself "What’s the point?". I seem to be existing, neither terribly high or low, for quite a long time now. It’s now Thursday evening UK time and I’ve just been out for the first time since Tuesday evening. Between that time and about an hour before I had to go and get some basic supplies I couldn’t be bothered to make myself get dressed, wash or shave. I clean my teeth regularly but I’ve always been a stickler in that respect. And what were the "basic supplies" I made myself go out for? Half a bottle of scotch and some tobacco because apart from a very nice beef stew I made myself cook earlier in the week (some vague shot at being normal?) I’ve been living on toast and cereal interpersed with bananas and plums. I feel as though I’m existing for others. My eldest sister is terminally ill and I feel unable to talk to my other sister and my brother because I don’t think it fair to burden them with my feelings when the eldest of us is dying. I sincerely mean it when I say that if I could take my sister’s illness from her and make it mine I would. She has two daughters, a husband that adores her and just so many reasons to want to carry on living. I can’t bring myself to commit suicide because of the impact it would have on the family and friends who love me. I now have the means to kill myself very easily – I moved in late June and I have a garage for my car – but I feel that to do this would hurt those that I love, and one of them is dying and desperately wants to live. I could write reams like this but you get my meaning by now I think.
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Ours is a cruel fate. We can”t hurt those who love us. So we carry on as best we can in spite of the meaninglessness and joylessness. So here”s to us: the brave soldiers of the existential infantry.
Cheers,
Lar