Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I were going through this hellish time with support, but there is NONE. The Wife launched into me again yesterday about nothing happening in my job search. Well, DUH ... what the fuck am I supposed to do when I can't get any of these motherfuckers to reply to the resumes I send them? What, am I supposed to SNEAK into an office somewhere, sit down at an empty desk and hope that somebody will cut me a check? Plus, while I'm trying to gear up to do follow-up calls (and, trust me, I would rather have fucking root canal surgery to do cold calling) on these 300-some letters for I put in the mail for Unicity last week, she rips me a new asshole about how I haven't had any success with that previously. OK ... FINE I know that I'm a fucking FAILURE, I know that everything I've ever touched has turned to shit ... but WHAT THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO? I can either TRY to do SOMETHING or do nothing at all ... and my range of possible arenas of action are limited ... I still try to make a go of Network Marketing, knowing that the company I'm affiliated with is superb, I still try to "right the ship" of Eschaton despite the pit we've been knocked into, and I still try to ressurect the damn Public Relations career, but noboody seems to want to talk to me! What the bloody hell am I supposed to DO? It's one thing that she has only consented to having sex with me once in the past five years (resulting in Daughter #2) ... but you would think she could realize that RAGGING on my ass on this shit is counterproductive.
Unless, of course, she figures if she keeps pushing me like this, I'll off myself and she'll get the insurance. That looks more likely every fucking day. Oh, look ... there's a poem about it! More, of course, are off at http://i.am/btripp ...
BY ONLY DEATH RELEASED
is there no end to this cycle, to this spiral into darkness, this plummet into pain, this long descent into degradation?
every day, every god-damned scum-sucking day, drifts lower, fails more; we can't plateau or find stasis, only fall
this nightmare grows crueller, the madness, more insane; the outer forces of our oppression turn more vicious, more set on our demise
when does this end? how much can we lose before nothing's left on which to build? how far into the pit is too far to ever scale its walls back up to the light?
in these days I can not see escape but in the ending of life, and so, I ache for death, for release, for oblivion, for separation from this all too hostile world