Today’s Tom’s 53rd birthday and what I’m fearing more and more is going to be his last. He keeps telling me everything will be alright, but will it? How can he possibly know that? The government stopped sending our checks and he has no job, so how is everything to be alright?

I know this is the beginning of the end, and like I said, I’m ok with it because I know life never could have been what we wanted it to be anyway. Had I thought we had a real shot at a modest home that was at least mostly peaceful, then I’d be pissed. Don’t get me wrong. I’m still pissed. I’m plenty pissed at God, society and life in general for giving so much to some people simply for breathing while we’ve worked our asses off for nothing.

But once we’re gone God can never hurt us again, or allow anything else to do so either. There are no guarantees that the afterlife if there is one, won’t be a lot worse, but there will be no more pain and suffering for us here. Right now we’re healthy. We have a roof over our heads and food in our stomachs. We aren’t the homeless guy pushing a shopping cart down the street, but if we don’t off ourselves when the money runs out, that’s exactly what we will be, and that’s not something I’m tough enough to handle. Not for even a few days, let alone 730 days which is when the pension would have kicked in.

All I can do for now is just enjoy what time is left. It’s not easy, though. I’m having a hell of a time motivating myself. All I want to do is just lie around or listen to music.

I did, however, make a lot of progress on my book yesterday. That much I’m determined to finish before I go, though I don’t see the point in continuing with my language studies. It kind of sucks that I won’t live long enough to learn more and lose more weight, so I’m just focusing on what I’m not going to miss at all. I’ll never again shiver through another winter or have to listen to 10 hours of barking each day as the weather cools down. I don’t know why, but like I’ve said before, the colder the weather, the more the dogs go crazy when Jesse’s not home. Soon there’ll be no more stress and constant worries about how we’re going to make ends meet. I’m tired of being beaten over the head with money! I never wanted to get old and to have to deal with arthritis, cancer and other nightmares that come with old age, knowing we’d have absolutely no one to help take care of us once we got too old to do so ourselves. So there’s just as much to not miss as there is to miss, and unless a miracle breaks between now and about a month from now, there’s not much anyone can really do to save us. Well, there is. It’s just that those who could do something don’t give a damn. It’s more important for the church to raise millions of dollars to control who marries who than it is to help people like my husband and I. And it’s more important for the government to send our money to other countries than to help those in need right here. You know that.

Anyway, to try to take my mind off what seems to be an impending death by carbon monoxide poisoning, I’m trying to distract myself from reality through music, writing and sleeping as much as I can. Been taking Benadryl every day. It knocks me out a little earlier and makes me sleep longer. Man, I WISH I could sleep till the end! I can totally see why so many people killed themselves during the Great Depression. People are quick to call them cop-outs, but they obviously just didn’t understand the hell they were going through. No, things don’t always work out, and yeah, sometimes we really are dealt more than we can handle.

IDK, maybe this is a good thing. Maybe fate’s leading us to the end because there’s going to be either nothing at all or a fanfuckingtastic afterlife waiting for us. Just don’t feel sad, mad or sorry for us. Every curse has its blessing. Every blessing has its curse.

My story is about 52K long now, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to stretch it to full length. Why is it that I can ramble on and on in journal entries, but never think of enough things to keep a story going for long? I could throw in trivial things to keep it going, but that’d be boring. It seems I just don’t need 100K - 200K words to tell whatever story I’m telling. I guess I was just meant to be a short story writer.

Later…

Just finished chapter 19 as Tom’s birthday slowly winds down to an end. He doesn’t appear bothered, but it’s sad to see no one give a damn about him. Not his mother, not his sister, not anyone. I’m glad he at least has me, but still, not one person cared to send a card, an email, or give him a call. Not one. One of the finest human beings I ever met and no one cares.

The weather’s been hot and dry and just over 100º.

Emotionally, I’m still a bit of a rollercoaster. One minute I’m pissed, the next sad, then nervous, then I go numb. Sometimes I just want to die, but sometimes I want to live and beat life at its own fucked up game. It’s easy for me to scream, “Damn God to hell for doing this to us or at least letting it happen!” but I know things could be worse. If we were still living paycheck to paycheck like we were for a while, we’d already be screwed big time. Maybe even dead. But I’m tired of money being an issue and the stress and hardships that go with it every single fucking day of my life!!! After all these years, why should I think things will ever change? Every time we start to get ahead, we get kicked back down. If this happened occasionally I’d call it life. But because it happens all the time I’d call it an obvious and scary pattern that says it’s just the way it’s meant to be. Something up there wants to torment us to no end, especially me since I stress a lot easier than Tom does.

Tom explained to me why he thinks things will work out, when we’ll get our money, etc, and in the midst of it, he told me about yet another person we never met who died who is only adding to our stress. It’s one of the politicians that’s fucking with people’s lives. Why is it that some stranger’s death has to put us out while our deaths wouldn’t put a single person out whatsoever? My parents would be sad for a while and Jesse would have to have our bodies hauled away and our shit packed up and dumped, but that’s the extent of it. If anything our deaths would be a bit profitable. We may not be rich in cash but we are rich in collectibles, gadgets and electronics. Remember, my job was once to win sweeps and contests before the economy went to hell and never came back.

All I know is I’m just sick of our lives coming down to one big vote. Everything is all about voting; things that shouldn’t even be a matter of voting. I’m tired as hell of politicians, society and whoever else being in the driver’s seat of our lives! All we do is get stuck in one endless rut after another! We want so badly to move on, but life just won’t let us.

And of course the fucking politicians are going on vacation like they do every other week and that could mean additional stress time for me while they’re out having fun and living it up at our expense. Meanwhile, nothing that I myself have ever done – not that I’d want it to – could ever have any kind of serious effect, control or power over anyone else. Why is that? Why am I one of society’s designated little slaves? Well, I don’t want to control other people’s lives or anything like that or put them out in any way. I only wish to hell they’d let my husband and I decide how to live our own lives! Starting with a job – just a lousy fucking job – would be really nice. But no, that’s too much to ask for. It’s always too much if it’s us asking for it. Again, why is that??? Why are we any less deserving than the next guy?

I’m not going to get into it now because I’m too frustrated, but tomorrow we’re going to try something in an attempt to break free of these chains God/society/politicians/life/whatever has put on us. I meant it when I said I doubted life could ever be what we want it to be, but still, if it works, then California can take their fucking jobs and shove them way, way up their asses. :) And the government can go fuck themselves right along with them. :)