Losing More than Hope

Ew, more melancholy to stain my new blog.

Really, though, I do not like even going to the doctor. I costs too much and I end up with worse than the normal anxiety. Having a digital rectal exam changed the way I look at going to the doctor. Mine is an older, very experienced doctor in a small town. He is more methodical than caring and I never once felt comfortable in his presence. He works in what can be described as a country clinic, a deceptively nice place full of apathetic women, a few caring nurses, and doctors who have been around longer than I've been alive, and that is 32 years.

My insurance, deceptively good BCBS, doesn't cover some things that should be basic. I mean, most of the time, the doc just asks questions, takes my temp and bp, and writes a prescription. Is throwing medicine at the problem the only way to treat it?

I don't know. I mean, I just don't care. My job is like a week in hell every week. The head manager of our side of the store is a demoness in a pretty skin. There is no care, it's apathy, maybe even malavolence there.

I almost committed suicide last year. Every day, I am growing to wish that I did. However, it was the Paxil that gave me the nerve to do it and I no longer take that awful med. I am a sorry excuse for a human male.

Contest this if you like.

My examples are, I do not have children. I spend my free time with my mind somewhere else, either writing or playing old Playstation games on this aging ps2. I don't go out unless it is to go to the store and even then, I like wearing purple sometimes and I don't like people to see me in that lest they think I am 'queer'. I am not. I have a girlfriend, but my relationship with her is a study of how NOT to conduct a relationship.

I won't blame Jen for that. It is my fault for not being clear with her. I don't want to hurt her feelings.

Maybe I will be a ghost when I am gone. For now, it is only online, sadly.