Hello. For those of you who have read some of my previous writings, you’ll doubtless be looking for the tongue-in-cheek remarks, the punch lines, the dark humour, the silliness even.
So, let’s just get something straight, right from the offset shall we? I’m not nice. Whatever vague recollection you have of someone who was funny, humorously mischievous, lovably forgivable, perhaps kind, perhaps generous with his time, well that person is long gone. He’s dead.
What’s left is someone who has grown very old, very quickly. Someone who is now bitter, sad, deeply unhappy, a real bore to be around and a real pain. He’s not worthy of your time, your friendship, or your love.
For two years the world has been telling me that i’m worthless. That I am no longer welcome or needed to play any active useful role in it. That my time is passed. Whereas once i kept a patient alive by holding and squeezing her heart with my bare hands, inside her chest. And many years and a substantial career change later i averted a serious collision danger over Southern England. But now i couldn’t get a job flipping burgers. The world tells me that i’m done, finished.
And people who I could once have counted on as friends have long since turned their back on me. And why wouldn’t they? There’s nothing attractive left to be a friend to.
And at home i’m hated and resented. Thought of as a nuisance at best a parasite at worst.
Put all this together and that kills a little bit more of me each day. I’m just not a nice person any more. I once had great plans for my funeral, a few laughs, mostly at my expense and a great party to follow. But these days i’m thinking, let’s just get on with it and get it over with. Because why would anyone give a shit?
Even i don’t like the person i’ve become. Every time i have to look in a mirror i want to smash it, eradicate the image. I hate the person that i am now. As many others do and rightly so. And if i don’t even like me, then why would anyone else?
But lately someone has come along who likes me. Or she thinks she does. But of course she doesn’t. She likes the act that i put on. She applauds my performance believing it to be the real me. She even has fantasies that involve me. Except that she wouldn’t like the new real me. And pretty soon my act will slip. She’ll see through it. She’ll begin to get dragged down by my misery and ultimately she’ll hate me for it.
So for her sake, i need to push her away. Because otherwise when the time comes, she’ll just get hurt. I doubt she’ll understand the huge favour i’m doing her. For one thing, her fantasies would turn out to be a very big disappointment for her. For all my talk and flirting in the past, i’m nothing special in bed. No-one has ever stayed with me for the sex. I’m way below average however your score your lovers. And at my age, well there’s not a lot to expect anyway.
This pit of despair that i’m looking down isn’t attractive. It’s not the image i want in my head. I’d much rather it be the view from atop Beachy Head.
I suppose there’s really nothing more worth saying. For once i’ve no idea how to end a blog. So i guess i’ll just stop writing.
Well i now find myself two days later, needing to add this small addendum.