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I was walking the puppies this morning. I walked past some young boys playing basketball in the park. Noisy. Vigorous. Happy. Whole lives that lay ahead of them. Full of promise. Glowing with youth. Endless realms of opportunity set at their feet. Rich with time.

I’m mourning my life. My old, past-due life.

I’m dismal today. ddiiisssmmmaaalll. This is a warning. Before you read any further. I’m very, very sad today.

What was I put on this planet to do? Recover? Is that all there is for me to do while I’m here? Recover and nothing else? I’ve done nothing with my life. Just recovery. That’s all I’ve ever done with it. Just recover from what was done to me.

Nothing else.

This recovering. It’s a handful. Two handsfull. I have no rest of me to do anything else.

What a dismal, dismal, life I’ve led to now. And there’s nothing in the works for my future. I’m going to be 60 in a couple of months.

I’m glad it’s almost over.

Because I have no purpose for being here. I mean… for what?!

Maybe there’s nothing out there. Maybe all that’s out there is a vacant void of lifeless space. Like the way I’m feeling today. Vacantly void inside.

Is there a God out there? Any life form at all… with a heartbeat? With ears to hear? Maybe I’m just talking to the dirt. Nobody listening. No one out there to hear my sadness. My dismalness.

Fuck it. I don’t want to play anymore.