Living Sucks

Why the fuck do we have to live? Surely it's a punishment of some kind. We live so we can get shit on by people, get hurt, watch other people and creatures suffer and die. I can't see any god damn point to it. I just feel sick to my stomach. I don't want to eat but I have to force myself to drink some ginger ale at least so I can take my stupid pills without eating a hole in my stomach. I hate food. Writing is a moot point because in the end it's just a jumble of words that amounted to nothing. Studying is a huge pain in my ass and housework is a worse one. I think I'd just end it for being tired as hell of it except for the fact that I'd fuck the hell out of my son and my animals if I did that. Both are dependent on me.

Stick a fucking fork in me, I'm done. Oh yeah and God, if there is a god, fuck you. This shit is the rat's ass and I am not enjoying it one single bit, fuck you very much. Go ahead and smite me, you cosmic dick! I've been daring you to do it for years! You couldn't even pull off a cosmic death ray when the sun was throwing those solar flares, you fucking wanker!

No offense intended to my Christian friends. I was raised Catholic, turned into sort of a Buddhist/Pagan mish-mosh, and can't think of the names of any specific creator deities right now. No disrespect meant. I am just very angry right now. I often become angry because I can't deal with sadness so I get pissed off.

I need to get a Buddhist book on dealing with grief. Buddhism generally helps me better in these situations than other religions. I have studied all religions and have respect for them, except for that kind of Fundie crap-ola which believes in some cosmic douchebag that is hateful to everybody. That is not the rest of y'all because what you believe in is a benevolent creator spirit. I'm actually okay with that guy. 

I'm just very angry right now like I said and shaking my fist at the fucker who took my father from me. My father, who had been suffering for years, especially the past year. My father, who had congestive heart failure, was confused and afraid, and whose toes had turned purple due to lack of circulation. My father, who was in constant agony. Yeah, that guy, who is now at peace, and I selfishly fucking want to talk to him one more time. That guy. And here is me, the selfish cunt, railing and hating and not able to eat because I just want to puke if I eat. Me. The most angry, pissed-off person who does not want to carry a gun and kill people, she just wants to stop doing everything that she still has to do and die because life is shit.

Life is suffering, life is pain, the little respites where you pretend it isn't are delusion, and one of these days I am going to get my hands around the throats of the fuckers who cooked it up to be this way because it is pretty fucking sadistic.

That is all.

Dad: May 31, 1936 - November 28, 2010