My dad actually called me today and it wasn’t a return call. Called at 11:56am, so that tells me that he was paying attention: I’m unemployed. He said he was just coming off a hangover from the night before, watching Monday Night Football. I told him I spent the night spending time outer space, playing Starfield, and didn’t get to sleep until 6am. I didn’t expect him to know what the hell I was talking about, even though he used to play video games with me as a kid. He’s actually the person who got me into video games; both him and my mother. Weird, right? Back in like ’86, when I was the only child still, we would go to the mall in Wichita, with one of four cassettes playing in our red and gray Blazer: The Beverly Hills Cop Soundtrack, Synchronicity by The Police, The Moody Blues Greatest Hits, or the Stand By Me Soundtrack.

Every time we went to the mall, we always went to the arcade. No, this wasn’t because I was begging and throwing a tantrum. We went because THEY wanted to go play. My mom over on the Ms. Pacman cabinet, while my dad was forever trying to beat Moon Patrol. My game of choice? Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. I still remember the smell of the arcade and all the sounds from the old games, like an 8-bit fever dream. I’d be given a handful of quarters and left to go do whatever… In a crowded mall at about 4 years old. Fuck it, it was the 80s; that’s just how things went. That game was an obsession for me because it was also the very first VHS movie I rented (remember those things?). My dad had won some big local trivia contest and the prize was craziest thing I had ever seen at that time: this thing called a VCR. And not just any VCR, the Sharp VC-673OU with a WIRELESS remote control. yeah, that was a big deal. I just looked it up to figure out how much that thing cost back around then and it was a staggering $500! But… just look at this beaut!

Took me a few minutes, but I found a picture online of the one. None of this matters to you, but I’m enjoying it, so just bear with me.

Every night we would go to the massive palaces that were video rental stores, and every night, I would have them rent it again and again for me. Here I am, in my parents’ bedroom (where VCR was setup), sitting unaffected by the dinner scene or watching Mola Ram rip the heart out of some poor bastard’s…. stomach? My parents had no problem with me watching this for months straight, but again, it was the mid-80s. I’ve told my one dedicated reader before that the movie always reminds me of my dad. Especially the look on his face in one of the scenes when he’s talking to Short Round. Even back in ’86, I swore he looked identical to my dad, and to this day I still see it. Maybe my dad did resemble Harrison Ford back in those days after all. Maybe not in the few photos I have of him when he was young, but certainly how he looked in daily life.

There’s no real point to what you just read. This all came from me mentioning that I was up all night playing a video game as opposed to getting hammered like he did the night before, but I felt like adding some insight into who I am, I guess.

Not once during the conversation did my job situation get mentioned. It was 100% football talk for about 2+ hours. I guess that’s fine. I can’t take it when my mom asks me, “are there any jobs posted on that site?”. She has asked me more about finding a job in the 4 months that she’s known about my situation than she ever asked about how school was going, which includes high school and college. Again, I don’t know why I bothered to write that, but I don’t feel like deleting it.

Oh yeah, some more things happened yesterday after my post. I have been out of adderall and another medication for a few days now and I can certainly feel it when I don’t have the adderall. That’s the only thing that makes me feel something good and really only when it is in my system do I feel like there is some hope for the future and don’t want to come up with a clean and efficient way to exit this reality. I called my dr and left a voicemail. He hasn’t billed insurance in years, so an appt would cost $170 out of pocket, but when I was working it was never a concern or even a thought. I haven’t been able to get a real appt with him in months because of the money component, but he’s been a decent enough man to still call-in refills for me. Well… This time he said he likely couldn’t do another refill for the adderall, since I haven’t been in to see him and something about a red flag if he’s sending in refills for that drug in particular without actually seeing me. I mean… how is the pharmacy going to know? I don’t even have insurance anyway. I essentially begged him to try, and he was able to send in a one-month supply with no more refills until I can actually pony up the cash to see him for our 10-minute quarterly meetings. One thing I did ask, however, was the whole plasma donation issue I ran into. For those who don’t know or remember the details, I was honest on my plasma donation form and noted that I have been diagnosed with Bipolar II and Major Despressive Disorder. There were two stopping points because of this: One, I had to stop taking one of the medications and be off it for a month, and the other was to get a letter from my dr saying that it was ok for me to donate. I hadn’t taken the medication for about 3 months but could never get the plasma place to call me back and ask me how to go about the letter part. I figured I would ask him if he would since I was already on the phone with him. I was completely floored when he said straight up that he was not comfortable doing that…. even knowing that I am flat broke, and this is a quick way for me to get some money same day a couple days a week. I just gave a despondent, “I understand. I don’t want you to get into trouble because of me.” So that is officially off the table. Not that the money would have saved my life, but rather the aforementioned “prolonging the suffering” that I wrote in my last post, but that was a gut punch.

I took some adderall today and for most of the day I didn’t want to die. I made sure to tack on some of the xanax that I’ve been stockpiling for years, because I know myself well enough to know that the anxiety is going to come knocking, so I would at least be ready for it. I came up with a little science experiment last night and started it earlier this evening, but I don’t care to go into it on here, at least right now. Maybe tomorrow will be different.

I did see an email today from someone who read this. I say “someone” as if it isn’t the ONLY person who reads this. Not sure exactly how I feel. My initial thoughts have been hesitancy about it, especially since I’m beyond the point of continuing to lie to myself about what it means or maybe what we mean to each other. I can’t allow myself to feel the things I long to feel when I talk to this person. This person gives me hope in so many ways, even if it’s false hope in some, but certainly not all ways. I read it before I drove to the store to get a pill crusher for that science experiment i just alluded to and a couple absolute necessities. Just like this shit always works, a song that reminds me of her; more specifically reminds me of us, came up on spotify. I haven’t listened to it in a long time. Fitting both because of the fact that she emailed me right before and because I’m feeling ever so close to just giving up. I’m reading the lyrics right now as I listen to it for about the 15th time tonight (took about a two-hour break and listened to other music earlier). I always knew the lyrics, but reading them this time, they feel different. I not only feel the words but can feel the emotion in the singer’s voice.

It’s almost tragic to me at this point. She might be the only person who really does care about me and would actually be hurt if I left this reality early, but we experienced too much in our past. Too much to ever rollback to a previous time when the feelings haven’t been felt and the words haven’t been said. I lied when I said I would take anything I could get, but it wasn’t with evil or deceitful intentions. I lied, hoping that I could convince myself of the lie, because her presence brings me to life. I feel like there is absolutely nothing I can’t get through. Even if something bad happens in my life or there’s another setback, and as you know, my life is nothing if not filled with bad timing, choices made too late, roadblocks, and just things that leave one wondering, “how is it possible that all these things always happen to him?”

I feel like there’s nothing I cannot overcome and succeed at when she’s near. She doesn’t even need to give a motivational speech or pep talk or even use words. The look in her eyes and the feel of her in my arms is all it takes… I feel infinite. At this late stage, holding her might draw out some tears from me… No words need be said… Honestly, most of the important things were never said with words. When I’ve been able to have her in my life in recent months, she makes me believe that everything is going to be okay, but… she’s not referring to one of the biggest things that I want her to say is going to be okay and work out. She knows what I’m talking about as she reads this. I don’t know if her reaction to this is frustration, cold logic and reason, shared dreaming of the future I wish for even though she knows that she could never bring it to fruition, maybe she’s thinking “just fucking move on! you have bigger problems than this sad emo pining for something that you blew your chance at years ago”, or maybe she’s listening to the same song and quietly letting the tears run down her beautiful face in another room in her house… just being nostalgic.

I hope that she knows how much I appreciate love her, and even though it’s a burden she never asked for, for most of the 20 years I’ve been lucky enough to have had her in my life, there are so many times where she has been the oxygen I needed to keep breathing and a reason for me to want to wake up and see what the next day could possibly bring.

She will never know how many times she saved me. She might not even be able to understand how she was able to save me, but that’s okay. It’s probably better that way. She might be wondering what song it was that came up, which is the one I’m still listening to, but I imagine that if I gave her three guesses, she would get it, maybe even on the first guess. I’ll end this with a throwback to the old days of our companion blogs; the only way we felt we could get our feelings out, especially when it seemed like there were so many eyes on us and had to resort to secretive expressions in posts… sometimes cryptic. sometimes direct. the direct route sometimes takes away the magic of it all, but the magic is in the person, not the writing style or word choice.

There’s a cemetery deep below the sea.
There the space is reserved for fools like me.
I tried to kill myself at least a dozen times
But nothing seemed to turn out right.

Now I’d rather wait a half a century.
Soiling the bed, all belligerent and wrinkly.
Even when I go blind and lose my mind
And nothing seems to turn out right,

Something’s got to turn out right.

If you want then when we die,
We’ll ascend to someplace way up high.
At the gate they’ll show you through.
If they ask me, I’m with you.

You’re in my body.
You’re, you’re in my body.
You’re in my body.
That’s where I think about you.

(You’re in my body and that’s where I think about you)
…in my body.
You’re, you’re in my body.
You’re in my body.
That’s where…

There’s no one who imagines like you,
So convinced there’s somewhere that we got to,
Not a first-class trip to the abyss.
Tell me, do you still feel this?
Tell me, do you still feel this?

As I drown in lakes of fire,
I will call your name as I expire.
It’s the last thing that I’ll do.
I will tell them I’m with you.

You’re in my body.
You’re, you’re in my body.
You’re in my body.
That’s where I think about you.

(You’re in my body and that’s where I think about you)
…in my body.
You’re, you’re in my body.
You’re in my body.
That’s where…

Falling asleep, asleep at the wheel.
As I approach that cliff, I’m starting to feel.
If you could wake me up with only your touch,
Then I could die with you and life would be enough

Falling asleep, asleep at the wheel.
As I approach that cliff, I’m starting to feel.
If you could wake me up with only your touch,
Then I could die with you and life would be enough
(Wake me up)

And I’ll face the one who made
My disgusting heart from a lump of clay.
Should he ask what got me through;
If he asks me it was you.

You’re in my body.
You’re, you’re in my body.
You’re in my body.
That’s where I think about you.

(You’re in my body and that’s where I think about you)
…in my body.
You’re, you’re in my body.
You’re in my body.
That’s where I think about you!

(You’re in my body and that’s where I think about you)
…in my body.
You’re, you’re in my body.
You’re in my body.
That’s where I think about you