"Mad World"

There’s a song called “Mad World”, and one of the stanzas is, “The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had.”  I get this so much, and most of the dreams that I do remember, I would dream of dying.  That would be a good night’s sleep for me.
See, I don’t fear death.  For any of you who have read my blogs, you know this.  I have attempted the early out program a couple different times with the same result.
A pulse. 
When I wake in the morning, I don’t relish the smell of coffee brewing as I stretch with a lazy smile on my face.  I don’t stir to the sounds of birds outside my window, and feel warmth and inspiration.  I don’t hear the pitter patter of little feet, and ache to run after them.  The first thought in my head when I wake up is.
“Fuck.....still alive.”
It doesn’t mean I don’t love my fiance  It doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy things about living.   It doesn’t mean I want to take my life by any artificial means.  It’s quite simple.  I’m ready to die.  Doesn’t have to be today, or next week, or even 10 years from now.  But if I were stricken with an air bubble in my heart while typing this, and I collapsed onto my keyboard, that would suit me fine.
I’m just here in the now collecting memories for the time I am destined.  Snapshots are taken in frames, and I keep the good ones.  Those, I will take with me.  The rest, I will write about in real time.
I made the mistake of joking with someone and telling them I wished I'd get some quick cancerous disease.  Not realizing this person had suffered cancer and been through rounds of chemo and radiation with a burning desire to live, I asked for a glass of water to swallow the foot in my mouth.  But this is the thing.
If I was eaten up with lung cancer, I would refuse any treatment for it, and light two cigarettes at a time, smoking until I broke out in a sweat.  If I had an aneurysm in my brain, I would inhale pepper with reckless abandon, wondering if that last sneeze would be the final. If I had a heart murmur, I would never exercise and eat myself into the next zip code until it quieted.  I relish driving on icy days when roads are closed, speeding just a smidge.   Tornadoes will find me with arms open, seeking their shelter.  Long,winding staircases while inebriated are a treat.
I’ll never attempt to purposefully take my life , because all I end up with is massive depression, scars, and a tremendous headache that refuses to quit pulsing.  And I wouldn’t do that to my fiance either.  Never will I do that.  But, I know what you’re thinking……..by refusing to take precautions, or treatment, and failing to wear a seatbelt, or take shelter in a closet, or traipse staircases in the dark.......I’m practically committing suicide.
Wrong.
We’re all going to die.  Some sooner than others.  I won’t take a massive overdose, or sit in a hot tub with flayed wrists, or step into oncoming traffic.  But I won’t prevent the inevitable, if given the opportunity.  
So there it is then.
I have no friends.  Well, no real “live” ones.  I despise my job, and I have had kind of a crappy upbringing.  Some of that is my fault.  Some of it is definitely not.  I have a man who loves me endlessly for just being me, and in fact, even though he keeps me walking a straight and narrow path...he's my reason for being now.  I have no surrounding family who drops a second thought about me anymore, unless I go and see them, much less remember how to spell my name. Hell, I can barely spell it and it's mine.
But today, right this minute, for now………I have my Frankie, and that is enough to not catapult the alarm out the window.  That is enough to keep me upright, and in moving air.  That is enough for me to smile, and marinate in feelings of worth, and dare I say.......love.  That is enough to steer me away from the medicine cabinet, sharp rusty objects, and imminent danger.
That is enough not to dwell on the prayerful, speedy, final necrosis of my organs. 


 
At least for today........