Things are now just about as bad as they can get and unless he gets a call for a job that pays big bucks or I win thousands of dollars over the next couple of weeks, we’ve officially reached the point of no return. Tom explained it to me in detail but I was too damn freaked out at the time to get it, so I’ll just spit it out in blunt English. We aren’t eligible for any more Unemployment benefits till next April. That means no income, no place to live, no food to eat, no life. We could probably continue getting a little in food subsidies but that’s about it. No point in feeding us if we don’t have a place to live. Once again, only the bad dreams are the ones that ALWAYS come true.

So I was right to have these feelings for the last few years of impending doom. Feelings that said we’d never get out of here and would probably be going out in body bags. I kept telling Tom, “Something up there really wants to make bums out of us!” And I don’t mean by living in bummy old rentals. I mean a pair of true, genuine street bums. I could sit here and try to delude myself by telling myself that God has a reason for everything and He does what’s best for us and what’s right for us. But anyone who knows us even slightly would know that there’s nothing “right” about us being tossed on the streets simply for being two people who always try to be good people and who just wanted to make a life for themselves. Nothing extravagant; just a normal, decent life.

It goes to prove that saying that God helps those who try to help themselves is bullshit, right along with the saying that He doesn’t give us more than we can handle. Well, even if I wanted to and was all for it, the streets are something I could never handle. We all have our limits, being a street bum with zero income is definitely one of mine.

I was also right to fear that what happened to us in 2007 was actually a preparation for these upcoming weeks. We weren’t granted a reprieve after God sat back and watched us be tortured with our survival till my parents jumped in to pull us from the quicksand, we were just granted a delay. Just an extension. Whatever’s up there obviously knew this day would come and that I would need “practice” and “preparation” to actually get up the nerve to kill myself, not that this still isn’t a scary thought. It had it in for us all along. It deliberately led us down the wrong paths in life or at least helped guide us down the wrong ones, and it knew, for reasons we may never know, that it was just a matter of time before it reeled us in on that leash it’s had us on for the last few years. It’s been coming for us. And now it’s time to collect. But why this way and under these circumstances? It makes sense that we don’t live to get old since we’d never have had anyone to help us, but why not have us shot in a robbery or get in a car accident? I prefer death by carbon monoxide poisoning, but still, it makes me wonder just what it has in mind and it convinces me all the more that it wasn’t just a “negative cloud of energy” we fell under but something that can think and plan. Stepping back and looking at my life as a whole, it makes much more sense that something with some kind of conscious and planning ability is at work here. The question is, what’s it going to do to us when it gets us over to the other side? Make us suffer in the afterlife even more than we would have slowly starving off on the streets while we shivered with cold or passed out in the heat? Or is it simply thinking that we’ve had enough shit and now it’s time to move on to something much better?

I was talking to Tom about how I fear the dying process and what may lie beyond, but he says it’s nothing to worry about and that it’d be totally different than here if there is an afterlife. I wish I could believe there’s absolutely nothing after death and maybe there isn’t, but to me, it seems likely that if some outer source can think, plan and influence our lives in this life, why not afterward, too? I know whatever’s up there, be it a God or something else, made sure our income would stop so abruptly because it knew we would kill ourselves because we couldn’t handle the streets. Even if we could – no thanks! I’m totally ready to go now. Scared, but ready.

As it is I’ve had the stress-runs and slight nausea and a racy heart. We got all this wonderful food (no sense in dieting or running just to die in a couple of weeks), but I have no appetite since I’m rather distraught. Tom feels I’ll get my appetite back and that my nerves will settle down as I “come to grips” with things. But how does one come to grips with the fact that their fucking government is about to help kill them? How does one accept and come to terms with knowing they have no problem sending off billions of dollars to other countries, including terrorists, but they won’t take care of their own??? Sorry, but even though the thought of growing old and dealing with the crap the elderly go through is unnerving to me, I will never be “ok” with the fact that my husband and I have been cheated out of life and life’s basic necessities. Our only dream was to have a modest income in a modest house with a modest life. WHY THE FUCK WAS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK FOR?!?!?!?!

There are things we could do to pay half of next month’s rent and delay our “execution” till around October 15th, but why delay the inevitable? Our time’s up and it’s obvious enough that there’s no way around it. I just don’t see any miracle coming to save us.

God, I’ll miss my Nane! I’m trying not to think of her and how much I loved swapping messages with her or else I’ll just crack up in tears. I’ll miss my friends and family and hobbies like my blog and things like that. It saddens me to know I’ll never write another story again and that my rat will soon be dead along with us because we don’t want to turn him loose for predators to get him. We also don’t want to trust that someone will care enough to take care of him. Hey, he’s a rat after all, and despite how smart, friendly and loving he is, not many people give a shit about rats.

So I try to keep in mind the fact that for every one good thing we had going for us, we had a dozen atrocities. There really is so much more bad in life than good, especially in our case. So no, I’ll never write another story again, but I’ll never have to clean the bathroom again either. It’s sad that I won’t get to look forward to many more years with Nane a part of my life and other friends like Alison, Kim, Eileen and Christine, but I’ll never have to worry about getting cancer, shittier vision or anything else like that.

If this had to happen, and obviously it was part of the “plan” like I said before, this really is the best time of year and month. I don’t have to deal with another winter even if it doesn’t usually get much under 30º here and gets just 1 or 2 dustings of snow a year. We also won’t have to pay rent ever again, not that we could pay more than a couple of weeks, and I won’t live to have to get another period.

Even though there’s no point other than to share my thoughts and feelings with people after I’m gone, I’m glad I finally mustered up enough energy to vent here in print.

If the bastard above had just let us have normal neighbors back in the 90s in Phoenix, we might have stayed there even if the house wasn’t that great. That house would have been all paid for years ago. But no. Instead He had to send us a pack of freeloading animals to drive us out of there and then He had to go and guide us in all the wrong directions, and yes, I do blame God for what’s happening to my husband and I. If you want to go and kid yourself into thinking He’s a good guy – fine – go ahead. And maybe for you, He is. After all, some people seem to have it all even if they don’t deserve a fraction of what they’ve got. Either way, I will die dirt poor and hated by God, but I will not die unloved and friendless.

I thought of running to these friends and asking maybe Aly, Eileen or Tammy if we could stay with them till he got a job while I worked online and then into a place of our own, but what good would that do? That would only be putting them out and we’d still be miserable. Nothing would change for us. Meaning, we’d still be just as cursed and God would still see to it that life shit on us in every way possible.

I started doing more research on death by carbon monoxide poisoning. Well, a lot of people must think it’s a good way to go because CM suicides are up lately where you seal yourself in a room and use grilling charcoal. I’m a little disturbed by the conflicting reports on its effects on humans but am determined not to let it stop me. Sure, headaches, stomach pains, and convulsions scare me, but I’d rather a few minutes to a few hours of misery than another 30-40 years of it or to die slowly over a few weeks on the streets. I see it like I see getting my tooth pulled. Yeah, it was a rough procedure last time around, and it was a slow and painful recovery. But the end results were well worth it. Other teeth can still torment me but that one never ever can again. Still, most reports describe it as the “silent killer” that doesn’t cause pain. That family that died in their camper is a prime example of that. The camper’s heater broke, so they brought in their little charcoal grill. It warmed them up and put them right to sleep and then they never woke up. Either way, unless you die in your sleep, never knowing you were going to, I don’t think there really is a “pleasant” way to die. And there’s also no avoiding death forever. We can just choose to face it before things get any worse for us as I don’t think I’d make a very good street bum. I also don’t think I deserve to have to give it a shot either. But if we don’t get our Unemployment benefits or a job it’s either that or death. I’m ready to die even if we could continue breaking even. Like I said before, just barely getting by in this dump for the rest of our lives isn’t good enough.