my old self

Haven’t posted in a long time. Been busy making preparations for my next (hopefully last) attempt at ending it all. Lately have had time to only read a few posts and leave a comment or two.

I was thinking earlier how long it has been since the last time I can remember being myself. Not this broken down version I have become. The old me. The real me. The human me. Not the zombie I have been the last year.

Those of you that have followed my posts, know my story well. My ex-fiancée and her kids abandoned me and erased me from their lives. She went back to her ex-husband, the one she left to be with me 6 years ago. The one she constantly trashed for being a terrible husband and even worse father.

I still remember that night she called me to tell me it was over. The third time in 4 months she had called it quits. But this time it was different. We had just gotten engaged 5 weeks before. I got down on one knee and I proposed. She happily accepted. She wore my ring. We made plans for our future.

That night everything started to crumble once again. Sunday, January 4, 2015. Exactly 20 weeks ago. 140 days. I have cried at least once every single day since then. Most days I’ve cried multiple times. Sometimes I’ve cried all day long.

That is on top of the previous 20 weeks that I cried about 2/3 of the days. So for the last 40 weeks I have cried and cried with no end in sight. It’s amazing that the human body is able to keep producing tears after all this time.

I still can’t remember the last time I was me. I used to be a fun person. For the most part. I liked cracking jokes, making people laugh. I liked debating. I liked interacting with my loved ones. I liked making plans for the future.

Because back then, I had one. Now all I can do is count down the days to my end. The only thing that matters to me is ending my miserable existence. The constant and unending pain is just too much to bear. It never goes away. Even at night when I try to sleep, I dream of them.

I miss them so much. The only thing that ever truly mattered to me is gone. I see their faces when I close my eyes. My son, my daughter, my little daughter. And of course, my beautiful girl. The love of my life. My everything. I see her eyes. I see her smile. I see her breathtaking beauty.

I tried to hang on as long as I could. Hoping that maybe they would have a change of heart and remember that I still exist. But my life ended when I finally realized that the situation was irreversible. And the damage to my heart was irreparable.

Now I know that my old self is gone forever. That version of me is dead and buried. Hopefully this zombie and tearful version of me will be gone soon, too. When your life is over, what’s the point of still being alive?