Yeah.

I'm not sure what the point is.

Of anything, really. I survive, barely. I work. I have a few dozen people all make it clear that somehow their happiness is dependent on me. I go home. I doze half the evening. I wake up and watch the same TV over and over again. I try to write and fail.

You know, fourteen years ago, I was convinced the world was a grand, and magical place. I had and knew love. I had people I spent every day with. I had nothing but hopes for the future.

Now? The world isn't magical. I spend my days with coworkers, then can't even stay away to stay in contact with my friends online. I'm becoming convinced there is no love in the twenty-first century. And I'm thinking a lot about death.

Not about suicide, really. There is a difference. But about death. If I were to die right now, right here, it seems to me the only real repercussion would be for my cat. Oh, I have friends, and they'd grieve. I don't mean to minimize them. But they'd survive, they'd move on, they'd remember me a couple of times a year, and occasionally bring me up. Frank would get wistful sometimes, talking to his wife or some old friends. And that would be it.

Nothing meaningful would follow in the path of my life. Nothing enduring would remain. And it seems increasingly likely that nothing will. So what is the point? Why do we pretend? Why do I endure ten hours a day of stress and angry people and come home and play with a cat and then sleep so I can go back?

Why bother? What is the god damned point?

One thing...

Something Frank said to me makes it clear I didn't make something clear last night with my shining moment of happiness. Let me clarify it as completely as possible.

I have friends. And family. Both of whom love me very much. And yes, it would matter to them if I lived or died, very much. Folks like Frank himself, and his wife, and my old friends John and John. Folks like Mason and Chris and Jon and Russ and Carol. Several other Chrises and a plethora of Beckis and Rebeccas. And my parents and sister and nieces. And a passel of others who I don't mean to insult by not naming.

I didn't mean to insult any of them by minimizing how they would feel. I said I wasn't suicidal last night, and I'm not. Part of the reason is because I know they love me, and someone who has the love of friends and family has literally too much to live for. Part of the reason is because I love them, and couldn't cause them that kind of pain.

No, the point of last night wasn't that I wanted to die. I've felt that way, I admit. I've even felt it recently, in a very passive way. The point was, and is, that my life as it is stands for nothing. I have built nothing for the future. I have nothing to show for the past. I have no children to follow me nor wife to share life with me. My quality of life, physically, is dismel. And I just don't enjoy my life like I have in the past.

And, if I were to be hit by a bus on my way into work, it would be very painful for a lot of people, but there would be no substantial change to how even my local world works. That is the point. It is not that I do not have people who care. It is that I live a life that is fundamentally unnecessary to anyone except my cat. It is that the life I have made for myself, the work I perform in it, the dreams I still manage to have lack any fundamental point, beyond that if I didn't do these things, someone else would have to.

Perhaps this is a self-centered, even pitiful reaction. I don't deny that. No one ever accused the person having the breakdown of being very balanced or fair in his views. But in the end, what I have, especially now, is the self. And that is who and what I must live with.

So, you ask. Your life is pointless, Mister Man. What do you intend to do about it?

Isn't that just the question, eh?

The importance of history

I am reminded of how important the tapestry of one's life is, and how many elements and fibers are a part of that tapestry.

I was reminded of that today by Frank, through threats of loving violence.

I was reminded of that by Karen, who never ceases to surprise.

I was reminded of that by Chris, who reminds me that friendship is precious.

I was reminded of that by pir, who makes sense through chaos.

I was reminded of that by my father, who loves without condition.

I was reminded of that by my mother, who finds the heart of the issue through the dross.

I was reminded of that by my life, which refuses to be maligned or confused with my job, no matter how much I might try.

Thanks, all.