its 5 am.

i have no business being up right now but i cant sleep. i have dying on my mind. not my death but the terminal illness of a friend in her last stage of ovarian cancer. i am thinking of a little puppy dog who couldnt keep his tiny head above water and lost his life a year ago.

its too early to remember why i am thinking about all of this. i am far too depressed to think about me and my whys and why nots. all i know is that i am typing and smoking and listening to counting crows, which i tend to do when i can't find any other thing to soothe me.

i am so exhausted being me. i feel like i am the heroine in a really bad movie sometimes. and truly, what do ihave to be depressed about? nothing. i have a great life if i were able to appreciate it that is. i had a great career. i have beautiful children. i have a husband who loves me unconditionally. we have a large roof over our heads. our cars are paid for. i have two dogs, two cats, a picket fence and a yard for them to run around in.

so what is holdingme down?

i suppose with all the thoughts of death going on, i am wondering why i cant appreciate my life and the things that i have with more passion. i am numb. i dont have a continuous bout of feelings. mine turn on and off. they flash in the pan and quickly diminish, leaving nothing but ash. ashes. ashes that blow in the wind.

i want to be cremated. i want my ashes to be a part of my husbands trophy cabinet.

i dont trust my ashes to my kids. they would move away and leave me behind without a doubt. wouldn't mean to, mind you, its just how kids are i think. if it isnt tangible, it simply doesnt exist.

i have cometo the realization that I am half way to dead. 42 years old. average life expentancy is about 83 for women. so its half way over and what precisely have i done to leave my mark? i wrote a book. i bled for my cause. i put out fires along the way. i had two children who will, with any hope, remember me fondly. i brought love, hope fear and resentment into peoples lives. the person i fucked with the most is me. 42 years old and i am still in self destruct mode. ignorance was bliss. when there wasno name to what was wrong with me i just understood that i was who i was...take it or leave it. fuck it. but now i am so acutely aware of what is going on with me that it sickens me. it renders me helpless sometimes.

helpless is right on par with hopeless. they both suck.