Just another day

Me and my scrunched up face, squeezing a tear or two out of my sour lemon head. I looked at Sharon's Facebook yesterday and read through all her notes. As if I needed another booster shot to keep my grieving fresh. I read the one about our 7th anniversary and saw all the emotion she put into it. She always put on a brave front for the world and for me. I can't fathom that a person with so much life is gone. I deserve to be gone, for I have all but given up on life.

These are the thoughts I am comfortable with, day in day out. By comfortable, I mean accustomed to. I don't know any different. I think I've convinced myself that I can't be anyone else but this sad wreck of a man who misses his deceased wife. I am the story, the story is me. All this BS about "who is aware" of the story or some such dissociative nonsense just makes me more frustrated.

I am still not sure which fate is worse, the annihilation of my story and all the bits which make up my physical and mental being, or some kind of continuation where all the faults and mental confusion continue on into some afterlife. At this point, just annihilate me already. Apparently, I've had all I'm allotted of happiness, and all that's left is the scraping of the last unsatisfying leftovers. I can order more sadness and suffering or not. Either way, it's all that's on the menu.

I guess Sharon wouldn't be so proud of me right now. What's it matter if she's truly gone? If I knew she was looking down on me from some heaven or existed somehow....if only. I would have some kind of reason to feel like it's not all waste of time. That it's OK to go through crap because it all comes out fine in the end. That the end of her suffering wasn't just the sad end to a sad story, but the beginning of a new (hopefully better) chapter.

But I read through her notes, and the hopeful tone diminished after a while. Then she just gave up on documenting what was a lost cause. My memory of those years is pretty clear, though. More and more negativity from me and less resistance from her. She did try to keep me from going negative, even by going negative herself at times. It would sort of stop me in my tracks, but she didn't have the strength to battle my demons for me.

I miss her so much. The stupid little things that I was able to do for her like downloading her TV shows or picking up her medicine. The simple life of routines that I could somehow manage to keep going. Now my routines are empty. I have no mission, no purpose. And please, nobody better tell me that my mission is to keep going, it's what she would have wanted. That I should enjoy life and have fun.

That is just not in the cards. Yeah, I'm programming my own destiny with this kind of self-talk. So what? I never noticed that lying to myself and trying to convince myself that I'm happy or a good person was ever too effective. I see her positive reinforcements in the Facebook notes, and it just rips my heart out. The little messages she would send to me like, "It's your weekend coming up. Let's make it the best one ever!"

I couldn't even give her one good weekend. And now there are no more chances. So do you think I'm going to have a good weekend here alone with these thoughts? Or over the holidays? Or in the new year? What would that even look like? According to popular theory, I must be enjoying the hell out of my life because this is the way I'm living it. If it bugged me that much, I'd change it. Like I'd change my emotions, just by pushing a button?

Give up on me already, I have.