Well, I think my blood is getting a bit more pure now that I've stopped vomiting and pissing orange-black. Got an exemption in the mail for the penalty to not having health care, on the grounds that I can't afford the Affordable Care Act. Yay! I'm subhuman to my own government! Maybe I can stop weathering various organ failures and dislocated joints in my home. Still haven't gotten all the adhesive residue off my leg from when I made a cast out of duct tape for my dislocated ankle. But anyway!
Put in notice at work, and now I'm out of a job. I immediately started sleeping again the moment I decided to do that. I don't know what I'm going to do, honestly. I'm thinking I'm going to coast for a month on what I have, then maybe take something for 10-16 hours a week to just cover bare necessities. But for the moment, I'm free, and it feels... weird. Like a door I've never noticed but was always there. Going to take this time to work on art, maybe hash out a novel I've been wanting to, and definitely focus on music.
I kept saying to myself that I would work a job, and do the things I wanted to around that, until I could eventually make something of them. But instead, I found that at the end of the day, I had too little energy to do anything. I'd just sit around, or read, or sleep. And then I'd say I'd do the things I want on my days off. And then when they came around, I had so much to do that I hadn't gotten to the rest of the week that I wouldn't have any time. And again. And again. And then a year had passed. I'd done almost nothing here. Or anywhere. A few people forgot I even existed. So did I. I keep saying tomorrow, and it's always just one more day away, and it's killing me. And what was I working for? I'd get a check to pay for the fuel to go to work, the junk food I'd eat just to keep morale through the day, and the bills to keep up utilities that mostly served to distract me from what I let my life become. When would that end? Tomorrow? Or tomorrow again? What would I have to look back on at the end of it all? Pay stubs and an empty life. No one is depending on me. No wife, husband. No children. No reason I should be satisfied "just getting by". And for what? I'm terminal. Last night just goes to prove that I don't know when that's going to happen. I'm doing nothing to get nowhere, but passing by distraction. And I hate that. This is a risk, but isn't anything? And what do I have to lose? A house that feels like a prison? A room's worth of stuff I don't even know exists if I'm not looking at it? A thousand distractions to get me through to tomorrow? And at worst, my life? One that doesn't even amount to anything if I'm not doing something with it. Another grave that will fade. I want very, very little in life, but it seems like a profound amount to ask for when so many don't understand. All someone needs is food, water, and somewhere to sleep. I feel better around buskers and the homeless than I do with my family. And if I'm wrong, I'm wrong. I'll fail, just like I have at almost everything else in life. But at least this is something that feels right for a change. Not like the bandage solutions I've tried over and over to make me feel like I'm "normal". Maybe I'm just not. Or maybe, nothing else is. Maybe we've made things so complicated because we're all too scared of being human in a world that doesn't want you to be. But now I'm just being weird, aren't I?
Don't know what's going to happen. But it will certainly be interesting.
Commissions are, well, open. If anyone cares. I have one to work on now when the tremors stop. Blood poisoning sucks, kids; respect your kidneys. Drop me a note if you're interested, or, hay, if you just want to say hi. I'm always up for conversation. You can live a thousand lifetimes if you talk to enough people, you know? See ya around!