On Being

Lately I've been wanting to cease to exist. I don't want to kill myself, I just want to be done with this life and move on to whatever awaits me on the other side. Its just too hard to be me. I wake up afraid to face the day, my body seems to be revolting against me, I'm in a marriage that should have ended years ago, I have few friends, none that I actually see. I am so alone and so miserable. So what is the point? Does one exist merely because it is what one does? My purpose here is nothing more than zoo-keeper, and anyone can feed and walk animals.

I'm pretty sure I'm in good health. I had some blood work done today. We'll see next week how well I really am. That means, barring accidental death, I should be stuck in this hellish existence for a good thirty or forty more years, each one bringing more frailty, more fear, death of loved ones, distance from family. I think I don't know how to live. I'm afraid of dying. So where does that leave me? Destined to live out my years longing to cease being, knowing that I have no choice in the matter.

I'm tired of my hell. I'd like to try another please.