Surviving, Part 2

Hey, it's me.  Still here.  Not dead yet.

Though it's been touch and go for the past week or so.

Twice I've tried to end my life in the past week.  Twice.

Twice I was all alone.

But fuck it, I'm still here, much to the disappointment of some of you out there.  But maybe not so much to others.  And that's why I'm still here.

I'm not lying when I say my neighbor saved my life the other night.  My dog saved my life too.  Sometimes he's the only reason I'm still alive.  I can't imagine him all alone or in someone else's care.  I don't care if it sounds stupid to you - he's my baby.  I rescued him once, and he's rescued me countless times over the past five years.

So here I am.  Adjusting to upped doses of current meds and the addition of a new one.  Amazing how expensive it is to stay alive.

Back to the psychiatrist again next week to figure out how to stay alive a little longer.

One breath at a time.  Somehow I'm still here.

I'm reminded of the lyrics of a song by a band I love:

"Life can be senseless
I try to make sense of it
Flashing fake smiles at my friends
Beats defenselessness
I cannot clean up the mess without making more...
I once met God in an apartment floor and said I give it to you I've got nothing more
And I'm not done with you yet."

I don't know what I believe about God.  That's been a struggle for the past couple decades, and I don't see it ending anytime soon.  But somehow, from my apartment floor, something told me that life was not done with me yet.

So here I still am.  Fighting for every moment.

Fuck the world.  I'm not going anywhere.


P.S. Song lyrics are from "Not Done With You Yet" by The Classic Crime

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