Happy go fuckyourself. That’s how I used to be, back in those heady tailwind days when there was still a functioning EPA. I was good with the kids taking over and me fading away. I got 46 years in...and my body is shot, so why not kick back and rot away?
Are only us old fucks posting here? Maybe I’m not as depressed as I was last week, before I ate some bad pork in a bowl of ramen. I should have stuck with the miso. Being sick as a starving dog for a day makes being able to hold rice down feel like a victory.
This getting old ain’t for everybody, is it? I’m thinking about hanging on until the medical bills exceed our net worth. Bad enough falling apart...even without not being able to afford to.
The tests that told me the 200,000 paid to make me well but did not cost 40,000. But none of this depressed me.
It was the SCOTUS pick. That got me. It got me so bad that I had to look for help from others who can read and write. I’m still fucking depressed. Thanks anyway.
In writing school...environmental history writing school, the kids hated the “declension narrative”...so much so that it was, and might be a big problem within my profession...I don’t know because Ive been out of the loop since I finished. Kids! Not even thirty...depressed about their planet being raped by idiots, go figure?
Not leaving the world better than I found it...getting that was hard to get over, but I did. I have never been a ball of fire, but I always showed up and still do.
This SCOTUS thing undid me...until the pork ramen. Feeling really bad on top of the slow rot, well that made me feel grateful for the slow rot and the SCOTUS...which is not yet permitting the dismembering of writers...so I have three things to be happy gofuckyorself about. I think I am good until at least February. Thanks again for the 200.