It’s been an impossible few weeks. The world is on fire, America is dying, I don’t even know how to write anymore. All of the thoughts that have been in my head in the late nights.
I just don’t care. There is no point. Save for the future, die at 61. Save for the future, scrimp, deny yourself, nursing home at 68. Screw this. I’ll never be rich, I’m always just behind the curve of money opportunities. I’m lucky to be as healthy as I am. I’m not poor enough for help and not rich enough to matter.
Alex matters. That’s about it. I can build a world around him and be fine with that. Otherwise, forget it.
I’m caged and bored. My house is always dirty and I am always gaining weight. It’s the same things I have talked about for 20 years or more and it’s so boring and I’m tired of being boring. Everything is messy and unsimple and done and repeated.