I was going to get so much done today.
I think I wrote something like that just recently for another journal entry…
Apparently it’s a running theme.
I guess… at least that means I’m still trying.
My daily nervous breakdown came early today. I was fighting with my truck trying to get the darn thing back together.
And it fought me… and fought me… and fought me…
And losing my mind complicated things… can’t remember where I put things.
I just beg to die.
Actually, I guess I alternate…. sometimes cussing god out with fiery, bitter, violent rage… sometimes begging to die… sometimes there’s so much mental and emotional anguish that it’s just primal animal noises, and I half expect something to pop in my head… have some sort of real aneurysm.
Anger. Rage. Despair. Agony.
I can’t keep living this way.
I need this to be done.
…
I got the truck back together. No change. Days of work, and it’s just as bad as it was before, except it has a new AC belt, and the power outlet fuses keep blowing as of today. The truck was my charging resource. Charging my batteries and whatnot.
One more thing broken.
I skipped the lunch I was invited to with some of the hill clan. I’m a mess. I don’t want to be around people.
AutoZone to take back stuff and dispose of oil. Walmart to buy tomorrow’s breakfast and ziplock bags to help in the sorting– except I forgot to buy the bags.
The recycling center to take all of my recycling stuff too, and to dispose of the gallons of antifreeze and other chemicals and batteries and what not.
To centerton to see about where things are at with my van. But no word. The owner wasn’t there. The people working there didn’t have any idea, and I got no call back despite leaving a message requesting a call back. They never answered their phones, so it’s a long drive to get response or update from them. Lots of wasted trips, at least last time around. Many many wasted trips, and here we go again.
Deja vu.
Stopped off at another Walmart and got the Ziploc bags.
Then went to Miguel’s shop to bring him probably two or three hundred dollars worth of free stuff that I’m not going to use because I’m not a mechanic anymore.
Ended up staying for like 5 hours hanging out talking, but mostly helping him with a real head scratcher of a car.
After all that time, it’s still nothing but a head scratcher. Neither of us can come up with any reasonable conclusion as to how what happened happened.
The engine is seized. But there’s no reason for it. None whatsoever. Nor is it reasonably possible given what was done. It’s like it had to have been sabotaged, or something. It’s just… There’s no sense to it.
I’d explain in detail, but I’m tired and just don’t want to.
It’s certainly quite the puzzle, though.
Thank you to all of you who love me and are reaching out. I am not lacking for love from family and friends.
I’m sorry to all of you for being where I’m at. I appreciate the love, and I recognize it. I’m just… spent.
Life is mostly pain now–physical, mental, and emotional. The hell that it is just isn’t worth going through.
Yet here I am, running on the fumes of a dying willpower, both of which seem never to exhaust, yet neither do they increase.
Not enough hope to sustain the push.
And yet, somehow there must be because I keep pushing.
But it feels as though the hope that must still be there is like the morning fog that burns off when the Sun rises.
More to write, but it’s 1:00 in the morning, and I’m exhausted, and my eyes are closing, and I should just go to bed because I’m not getting enough sleep as it is. I stay up way too late, and then I wake up late, but still without enough sleep.
Falling asleep. Ending here.
Good night.
~ stephen
Lift the World 