Life holds no fascination for you anymore….

This is me. Nothing in life. There is no life. Not for me. I float day to day. Do what needs to be done. Go to work. Take care of my kitties. Talk to my mom and brother on occasion. I bide my time. Sometimes when I’m driving around I just wish that a truck would smash into me and obliterate me. With my luck, and my sturdy car, if it did happen, I’d survive, broken and bruised.

I get anxiety at night. Nearly impossible to ignore urges to jump into my car and just take off, or drive to a cliff and just fukin jump already.

I want to die so much that it hurts. Existing is painful. Breathing is painful. Sleeping is the only break I get, but sometimes that makes it worse. Sometimes I have dreams about being intimate with my husband. I know it’s him, but I never see him. I haven’t seen him in my dreams since the night after he passed away.

He died in our bathroom. He closed the door and immediately had a seizure and slumped against the door. I couldn’t open it to get to him. By the time I realized I needed to call 911, it was already too late.

The next night I dreamed that we were sitting on the floor in our bedroom, for some reason our bed was gone, but we were laughing and talking and I was saying that we aren’t allowed to have a door to the bathroom anymore, cuz it was too close a call.

Waking up after dreaming about him is the worst. Having reality slowly dawn on me and come into focus is like seeing his lifeless body in that hospital bed all over again.

I said goodbye to him that night. I kissed his chest a million times, patted his cheek, told him I loved him more times than I can remember, and that I would miss him. I professed my undying love for him, as he lay in front of me, lifeless and blue, with a breathing tube taped to his face. Nothing in the world will ever make me forget that night. The way he looked when they wheeled him out of our apartment. The way the paramedic looked at me when he told me that they were breathing manually for my husband. I knew then. I didn’t want to, but I knew.

I never prayed so hard in my entire life. For 2 hours, waiting for my mom to come get me so I could follow my husband to the hospital (I didn’t have my license). I prayed for those entire 2 hours. Sat on my bed and just begged God to not take him away from me.

My prayers were denied. My husband was already long gone. He was gone before the paramedics even arrived. God left me alone. I’ve been alone for nearly 11 months. People are around me often, but I’m always alone.

I have to die. I can’t go on like this. I’ll never love another. He was, and always shall be, my everything. I wish we could have had a real lifetime together. Was it really too much to ask that I get him for just 30 more years? I could have accepted that a little better. At least I would have to face so many decades without him. A 50 or 60 something widow is one thing…. but a 26 year old widow? That’s F’ed.

Why is it that people who don’t want to die, do, and people who do want to die, live? My husband had everything to live for. We had a future. We were starting to get things on track. We were 2 years away from starting a family. We were 3 months away from starting a home business together. We were going to help people. We were going to adopt teenagers and give them loving homes. I had a crappy, abusive childhood, and a very troubled teen life. I was going to bring teens into our home and give them the love and stability that they needed to succeed in school and in life. Why would God take someone so amazing away from this life?!?! He was a good man. Why did he have to die when there are plenty of awful people out there who are allowed to live and rape and murder and otherwise hurt people for their own gain?

I need to die. And soon. I can’t face November. I can’t.