When the clock ticked over to Midnight on April 4, I had a small moment of ’32-0, suck it life’ (
this is probably in small part thanks to my obsession with UKs pending Final Four game and their being near 40-0) and then got extremely sad.
It turns out, if we’re counting up losses and victories, the amount I’ve lost in the last couple of years will outweigh the 32 years of nothing I’ve done with my life.
One of the cats that my parents adopted while I was away from home, Midnight, a cat woh has taken to me and seems to love me, even going so far as to give me light headbutts like my Seven does, got sick the other day.
He’s been showing signs of this for a while, this sort of heavy breathing and malaise — he hasn’t eaten in days, and we can’t afford to get him put to sleep, so instead for my birthday I get to watch him die.
I spent an hour in the floor tonight, laying by Midnight and crying… all I did was lay near him and be close without crowding him, and still I could barely take it. He slinks around and I’m just…
It seems like with every year that passes, my win ratio in the game of life seems to be heading towards the negatives, and yet i still keep playing. It’s like my life as a whole is the boobie prize that they award you: “Here’s a plastic toy, it has to last you forever, try not to break it.” and all the while they start pilfering through the things you’ve gained in your life that actually matter.
So Happy Birthday for me having made it through another year doing the bare minimum and not being worth a damn, and here’s to hoping that if I can get into therapy and they can get me medicated for my social anxiety and depression that things will get better and I’ll be able to make something of myself.
Because last year I lost my mom, this year I lost my cat (and, in a way, the love of my life, though his heart still beats, thankfully) and I’m just not sure how much more I can take.
Everyone deserves better than me, so I’m going to have to strive to be the best me I can.