I turned 60 today. (don't talk to me about my profile-everyone lies about their age). The people I expected to wish me a happy day have done so, and I've spent the better part of the day drinking coffee, fucking off on the internet, and reading The Body.
My sister, with whom I can barely share a room, hasn't called or texted. I'm okay with that. She's always treated me as if I were an embarrassment, a burden, or simply not there. I've never said this out loud but I know she has never loved me. Yet, for some fucked up reason, I've always craved her approval.
Our government has become the overreaching dystopia that The Right claimed it was against. Instead of it being "Us against the Military Industrial Complex," it's now "Us against the Military, Corporate, Financial, & Digital Industrial Complexes," AND the most corrupt government that is clearly using the Iran war to engage in insider trading. Boss Tweed, you would be proud.
I had a stroke back in 2017 that left me in a coma for over a month. I had to relearn how to walk, how to dress myself, wash, etc. It was a humiliating nightmare. It messed up my life but it obviously didn't kill me. But now my brain works a lot more slowly. I still know a lot; it just takes longer to find it in my head.
The best friend I had since 1985 hasn't been my friend since that stroke. My current best friend is a great guy but is an inconsistent friend to me. And I'm not HIS best friend.
My daughter is by far the best thing in my life. But she's indifferent about or wholly unaware of everything I did with her when she was little. I worked incessantly to do all the work of teaching and administration while NOT sitting her in front of the T.V. on Saturdays. I took her on outings around and in the city, taught her to ride a bike, took her skating, drove her everywhere, etc. Now she acts like I'm this useless old guy.
(Sigh). The light that kept my marriage from being a complete bore was turned off when our daughter went to college last year.
I don't know where I'm going with this, except that I have an inescapable fear that this is all there is to life. This is all there is. I'm not going to kill myself, but what is the point of all this mostly insipid bullshit and incessant work? What was all the effort for?