I don't care, it's not fair

So much of life is a mystery to me. Last night I went out with a girlfriend I have not seen in two years. Despite our differences, we still remain close. She's a strict Orthodox Catholic (or whatever religion strict Orthodox people follow), and I'm a devout Atheist. Despite our difference of opinion on religion, we can look past that and be friends. She can see past my mental illnesses and my desire to die and champion for me to hold onto life. She can make me laugh when all I want to do is cry. She can hold me in her arms when all I want to do it push her away. Not because I don't need her, but because I feel she doesn't need me. I have nothing to offer.

My sister's father in law finally passed away this week and I don't care, it's not fair. He had fought against all odds to remain alive for many years longer than he should have. He lost half a lung to cancer because he was a smoker, he suffered through prostate cancer, survived through double pneumonia that would have killed most people. Yet my daughter's grandfather went in for what should have been routine surgery and even though he came through that surgery just fine, suddenly, inexplicably, one by one his organs began to fail and he was dead in less than 24 hours.

Life isn't what most of us imagine it to be. I wish I could say my life isn't what I imagined it to be, but I was never one to dream about life. Never one to dream of what life could be if only you focused, if only you worked hard to achieve your dreams. I've always been a girl void of dreams.

My life is a disaster and at this point, I don't care, it's not fair. I didn't ask to be riddled with these mental illnesses that have taken hold of my brain to the point where I no longer care, no longer believe that my life is my own. My life is owned by this diseased brain inside my head. It's controlled by the voices that tell me to drink, to cut, to overdose on medications I shouldn't be taking in the first place.

I've reached that point where I don't care any longer, it's not only not fair, but it no longer matters. Do I want to hurt my daughter by taking my life? No. But do I want to hurt myself more by not taking my life? No. I'm stuck. Trapped and unsure what way to turn because every turn I've made in faith, in hope, has turned out to be the wrong direction to head into.

I can finally cry now. I've wanted to cry for so long it hurt. The tears now come whether I want them to or not. Others may think I'm crying over something so incredibly foolish, and I try to lead them to believe that I am, but I'm crying because I need to release these horrible, horrible emotions. I need to empty my soul of the pain that I've tried to drown out with liquor (over a gallon of Guinness yesterday alone) and the Norco pain killer.