I reverted hard. I don't really know what happened. All of a sudden I wondered if I had made up the last ten years. I'm back in the house where everything went bad so long ago, except now there's no friend or family or job or transportation of any kind, and I know that I traveled a lot between 2006-2019, and I got married, and I had experiences. But there's no physical proof of any of it. I'm at this house again, living out of a suitcase since before the apocalypse. Will I be a ghost here? AM I a ghost?? Wandering these halls, begging for rain, pulling my head apart, screaming, crying, forever searching for something that doesn't exist?
What is so wrong with me? Why does no one want me? I have so much love to give, and all the dozens of people I've reached out to just give me a quick "Aw, you're so sweet! You're great and sensitive and any woman would be lucky to have you!" etc. etc., and then they run off. I'm the only person I know who can keep a promise, have a deep conversation, and cook perfect rice at the same time! Come on, just hang out with me! Please? Anybody? So what if it's codependency? At least I know how it works, and I can be okay in it! It's better than living a long life with nothing but utter isolated agony decade after decade after decade! Is there a dating website for people who just accept the damn codependency? There are ones for literally everything else I can imagine, including physical abuse!
I'm waiting to hear from employers. I would make such a great substitute teacher or paraprofessional at the high school down the street. It's a crappy school but that's why I'd stand out there. I'd take pretty much any job so that I could be making some kind of income and keep my mind off of the terror and the suffering. It's never as bad if I'm busy. If I could just do something and make some money, I could edge towards what I really want. Of course, here's where it gets really messed up....
"Uh-oh. What is it that you want, Tymothi....?"
Well, friend, I'll tell you what I want. I want enough money to buy a vehicle, drive to a beach, and stare at the sunset with a bottle and a bottle. It's what I live for now. How cruel and sick is that, to hold as your life a goal the method of ending it? With the exception of those years I had someone in my life, it's been my life goal since I was 12. My poor father. He tried so hard.
My new meds were horrible. They made me sick. They don't prescribe benzos anymore, so I don't know what she can give me. I had a little luck with propanolol once, I'll ask for that again next. Maybe I won't have a choice. I'll have to tell her my depression is at nightmare levels and suck it up and do the SSRI thing again. I don't want to. I can't do anything outside of a prescription either because if these guys do want to hire me I'll need to pass a drug test at the end of the month, proving that I can live in this world - this one - without any help at all. Great logic. I hate this species so much.
You know what? Writing this out reveals to me a dark but important truth: It's good I don't have friends. I would say things like this and infect them. You're right. I couldn't live with doing this kind of damage to someone else. It's not fair to people who still have a chance.