Fear of Living

my granddad was like that, lived to 96, outlived all of his siblings, his parents, and most of the people he worked with. When other people saw him, he put on his charm, the guy could sell ice to an eskimo as they say. His darker moments? He could be stubborn, irritable, in fact there were times that I was the only one willing to deal with him, at least without being paid. I thought given his wealth, he would have left me a special legacy, but only his pain lives on in me. Well, some of his money is still around, but not enough, there’s no replacing a man like that.

I’ve experienced plenty of loss, family, caregivers, friends. I keep wanting to stop, but that is the liability of being alive; humans are charming in their way. Right now I’m trying to isolate as best I can, trying to avoid gaining more to lose. Not a game I’m winning, but someday soon I hope to recede into my quiet self interest, abandon this species which cares so little for itself.

It’s like we all have this void, we are wired to need others, and others tend to take advantage, in one way or another.