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Waldo P. Schmeer

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Before I write anything, I just want to recognize that this is how I feel in this very moment in history of time. I may not feel like this in the future, and if I may read this again at a future date, just recognize that this is where I was mentally TODAY.

As I sit here in my parents house, I can't help but feel a sense of poetry about what life has become. Anyone who isn't in the know will see this place and they might think words like "quaint", "rickety", "run down", or "charming". Just an old dilapidated house where life happened.

I hate this house with every fiber of my being - with every measure of my soul. To me, this place is a grandiose museum of each and every bet that my father made where he used my soul as a gambling chip. It's a place where I have died, over and over, billions of times, in every kind of way imaginable. It's where I was beaten physically, mentally, socially, and spiritually. This would be Dr. Frankenstein's lab, and I would be its monster.

This is the place where each dream I ever had got lined up one by one like a firing squad and summarily executed for the temerity of existing. Failure is such a normal thing for me, that I genuinely, and deep down inside hate to see people enjoying life. I know its evil. I don't want to be thought of as a bad person and hope for at least some mercy points from the universe with the understanding that I merely don't understand why some have to die in the desert, and other get to swim in an oasis. As a man, and having experienced the world and understands it far more than when I was let loose unto it, I realize that I was dead from day 1.

This house is a monument to indifference and complacency. Its where my father never thought that he had sons to prepare for a world. Its where he thought the bare minimum in life was good enough. And then when we got out into the world grossly unprepared for it, he mocked us for it.

I love my parents. I genuinely do. But I am not a well person. If that wasn't enough of a curse, I am not a well person but who is a FUNCTIONING not-well person. So people see me that they think I have answers and know what to do at all times. But the reality is that I'm the only one here who isn't a chickenshit about figuring things out.

And so the poetry comes in the fact that this is just the end. Life doesn't get better. We don't get stronger and faster and younger as time passes. We slow down. And this train is about to stop. My mother had a stroke last September and honestly she was very lucky. But in a weird way, it just made her more of what she already was. She has always been a bitter angry woman about the poor decisions she made in life. Because like most women who rely on their beauty in their youth, they don't know how to do absolutely jack shit later in life. By the time they realize it, they're so far gone as a bitter and hateful person that there is no redemption or coming back.

So what we have now is a bitter ass old lady who does absolutely nothing but diarrhea out of her mouth. 24/7. Non stop. No breaths in between. A bitter angry jealous hateful old lady who messed up her own life beyond recognition because of her own stupid choices in life. And as a result, she messed up the lives of everyone within her very small orbit. Everyone else is just a burned bridge who just saw a bitter ass angry woman and left. And she's not weak enough to just die off already. God- if such a thing every actually existed, has left her with enough faculties to just LITERALLY live as obnoxiously as she always FIGURATIVELY has. And that, my friend, is where the poetry lies.

I have been on a quest to live better and healthier. My blood pressure is always near 200. I know I'm going to die one day. Heart attack. Stroke. Aneurysm. Name it. But not today. Today, I am going to my drug dealer, and I am going to just get doped up. Not so that I can feel the high. But so that I don't have to feel the low.

Everyday I think more and more about death. I am not suicidal. I do not think about committing suicide. But I DO envy people who are gone. Or those who have gone early. I don't see what the big deal is- where people don't even want to HEAR the word death. I do understand the appeal of it. And truth be told, I daydream about just sleeping. So that I don't have to work anymore. I started working a 14 years old and never stopped. Never had a vacation. Never had anything special or significant for myself. All that I literally know in my life is how to serve others. And I am so tired, that death doesn't even scare me. I just want to sleep.
 
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Colster

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You know, I get all of that, 100% of it. Not that my life was or is the same. Although similar.

My father was a airforce guy. He couldn't think for himself, and yet could start an argument in a empty room.

My mum, she's smart, a hard worker. But not as smart as she thinks, and has always awaited a rich man to sweep her off her feet, having cheated on my Dad.

I'm left with mum, increasingly needy. And whilst she doesn't spout the verbal, as your mother does. My mother persists in painting our past as this magnificent paradise, which she singularly provided. Then she will bitch about where she is now, and blame everyone, anyone for that. When she wants things, now is never soon enough, and just then is too late.

I think about death every single day, umpteen times per day. But you know the drill. Probably the only thing that keeps me here is my little dog, because nobody is going to look after her.

I don't do drugs. Amiltriptyline gets used infrequently, and I'll lose a day sleeping, and often into the following day too.

I've worked hard all my life. But always taken care of my responsibilities first. I don't owe a single penny, and choose not to have much.

But I sure in Hell, can't remember the last time I had anything that I could enjoy peacefully without interruption and other people expecting something.
 

Waldo P. Schmeer

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Thank you for sharing with this @Colster - in a weird way, it makes me feel better that someone else can commiserate with these thoughts. There are times where loyalty to the family can cause people to second guys their own feelings and make them feel selfish. But I guess I'm old enough to see that I am the opposite of selfish.

Its just a strange feeling when you get to that point in life where you can't see an end to the shit shower that rains down and makes me question the very existence of god itself. Like how can someone live right the whole time they're alive- they treat people well, give them the clothing off their backs- have the balls of steel that it takes to wake up at the ass crack of dawn every day to do the right thing so that I don't have to knock off liquor stores, and still suffer indignity after indignity.

I'm sorry to hear that you don't get time to enjoy the things that you enjoy. I know how much that weighs the further you get in life. I know that in my case, it's because I've become hyper aware of the time that I have had to spend cleaning up people's messes.

Thanks again Colster.
 

Colster

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Sometimes it does us good just to know that our problems are not as unique to us, as they might initially feel. When I read your post, it all felt so familiar. Eased some of my self burden.
 

roses4all

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I hated my childhood. The house was eventually torn down to make way for a super house.

All my dreams and desires were shot down. My dad had Asperger's Syndrome. He hated women and girls. They were for cooking and making children. If I did something, I was taking it from a guy. My dad always said, ''Who are you to think that you are one of the few who can succeed?''

If I wanted to do something, my mom always said, ''Why do you want to set yourself up for failure?''. I now know my mom has narcissism or at least narcissic traits. She cries a lot and always wants people, including her children, to look after her. If I try to tell her how she hurt me, she just says that I made her cry. I don't try anymore.

So, I was determined to succeed in spite of my parents. Somewhere along the line, I developed exteme anxiety. Now, I am so tired. I have been fighting against my childhood my whole life. Mostly, I just wanna sleep. Often, I do the minimum cleaning and work and then I sleep. If I sleep 8 hours, I wake up my brain in turmoil. So, I sleep more. Now, I feel old age coming at me from the other end... it is hard to make my brain work. I don't know what is from childhood and what is from aging. And I wonder if there will ever be more.

I would like to go back to my childhood house, in my childhood village, and pretend I have parents.
 

GMT-8

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Before I write anything, I just want to recognize that this is how I feel in this very moment in history of time. I may not feel like this in the future, and if I may read this again at a future date, just recognize that this is where I was mentally TODAY.

As I sit here in my parents house, I can't help but feel a sense of poetry about what life has become. Anyone who isn't in the know will see this place and they might think words like "quaint", "rickety", "run down", or "charming". Just an old dilapidated house where life happened.

I hate this house with every fiber of my being - with every measure of my soul. To me, this place is a grandiose museum of each and every bet that my father made where he used my soul as a gambling chip. It's a place where I have died, over and over, billions of times, in every kind of way imaginable. It's where I was beaten physically, mentally, socially, and spiritually. This would be Dr. Frankenstein's lab, and I would be its monster.

This is the place where each dream I ever had got lined up one by one like a firing squad and summarily executed for the temerity of existing. Failure is such a normal thing for me, that I genuinely, and deep down inside hate to see people enjoying life. I know its evil. I don't want to be thought of as a bad person and hope for at least some mercy points from the universe with the understanding that I merely don't understand why some have to die in the desert, and other get to swim in an oasis. As a man, and having experienced the world and understands it far more than when I was let loose unto it, I realize that I was dead from day 1.

This house is a monument to indifference and complacency. Its where my father never thought that he had sons to prepare for a world. Its where he thought the bare minimum in life was good enough. And then when we got out into the world grossly unprepared for it, he mocked us for it.

I love my parents. I genuinely do. But I am not a well person. If that wasn't enough of a curse, I am not a well person but who is a FUNCTIONING not-well person. So people see me that they think I have answers and know what to do at all times. But the reality is that I'm the only one here who isn't a chickenshit about figuring things out.

And so the poetry comes in the fact that this is just the end. Life doesn't get better. We don't get stronger and faster and younger as time passes. We slow down. And this train is about to stop. My mother had a stroke last September and honestly she was very lucky. But in a weird way, it just made her more of what she already was. She has always been a bitter angry woman about the poor decisions she made in life. Because like most women who rely on their beauty in their youth, they don't know how to do absolutely jack shit later in life. By the time they realize it, they're so far gone as a bitter and hateful person that there is no redemption or coming back.

So what we have now is a bitter ass old lady who does absolutely nothing but diarrhea out of her mouth. 24/7. Non stop. No breaths in between. A bitter angry jealous hateful old lady who messed up her own life beyond recognition because of her own stupid choices in life. And as a result, she messed up the lives of everyone within her very small orbit. Everyone else is just a burned bridge who just saw a bitter ass angry woman and left. And she's not weak enough to just die off already. God- if such a thing every actually existed, has left her with enough faculties to just LITERALLY live as obnoxiously as she always FIGURATIVELY has. And that, my friend, is where the poetry lies.

I have been on a quest to live better and healthier. My blood pressure is always near 200. I know I'm going to die one day. Heart attack. Stroke. Aneurysm. Name it. But not today. Today, I am going to my drug dealer, and I am going to just get doped up. Not so that I can feel the high. But so that I don't have to feel the low.

Everyday I think more and more about death. I am not suicidal. I do not think about committing suicide. But I DO envy people who are gone. Or those who have gone early. I don't see what the big deal is- where people don't even want to HEAR the word death. I do understand the appeal of it. And truth be told, I daydream about just sleeping. So that I don't have to work anymore. I started working a 14 years old and never stopped. Never had a vacation. Never had anything special or significant for myself. All that I literally know in my life is how to serve others. And I am so tired, that death doesn't even scare me. I just want to sleep.
That’s quite a post. I too can relate to many of your comments, and I sympathize with your circumstances. I’m at the older end of the life spectrum and have been somewhat satisfied with my life despite my horrid youth.

I do have a suggestion for you though. Your post was very well written and I wouldn’t be surprised if you could be quite an author. Have you thought about having a career in writing (of any kind; pleasure, industrial, business, etc)?

The one thing that helped turn my life around was pursuing a career I enjoyed. And though I had to work hard, it also gave me a goal, many rewards, and enthusiasm for life.
 

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