On death and dying

I've been thinking about death a lot lately, even before Michael, Farrah, Ed and Billy. But the death of Michael Jackson has brought it more to the forefront. He and I are/were the same age, off by only a month and a half. I felt like we had a connection. I listened to his music most of my life, got my children hooked on him, empathized with his screwed up life, stood up for him during all the allegations, etc. I know I'm not alone in any of this. He was a well-loved man. I look at his life and I look at mine. He was a genius with talent far above that of anyone else. He made a difference in the lives of millions of people, and could have continued if he hadn't died. Me? I could die today and the world wouldn't miss a thing. I know, I sound like a drama queen, but I don't mean to. I'm in a bad place again and I don't see the point of living. I wake up anxious, my stomach is in constant turmoil, my marriage is shit, I'm too unattractive and unsocial to find anyone else at this point, I do nothing for society, and I'm miserable. I have no friends, few acquaintences, and I whine a hell of a lot (as you can see). I want so much more from life and yet I know I'll never have it. I don't want to spend the next 30 or 40 years struggling through the day. Sitting at work today I felt useless. I'm surrounded by nurses who are caring for patients, a doctor who is helping people feel better, and there I sit pinning nun costumes to sew when I get home, with a break now and then to sign a patient in or out. That is my contribution to society. A drug rep came and brought lunch today. He was gorgeous. I came in early so I could talk with him, find out what the drugs he promotes actually do. And look at him. I felt like I overdid my makeup, dressed inappropriately, asked stupid questions, was socially awkward. I want to be noticed, but I'm too unattractive to make it work.

My anxiety symptoms recently are stomach, feeling like I can't breathe, and feeling like I have heart problems. In the past, this would disturb me to the point of panic. Now I look at it as, if I die, I die. Hopefully it will be quick and painless. I don't plan on taking any steps to hasten my demise, at least not right now. Sometimes I do think about it. Anxiety disorder has robbed me of my life for 25 years or more. I don't know that I'm willing to give it much more.