Have I ever not been alone? And why will it be different at the last moment?

 I've never asked myself this question before, here in my hidden blog.  No one will ever read what I'm writing here.  This is for me.

I was alone young.  Walking home miles from high school parties along four lane highways late at night. 

Now more than ever.  I thought I was in an intimate life partnership with my ex-wife but now I look back and see 28 years of her leaving, every day, every minute.  She was absent whenever needed, and we survived because I never asked for anything.  She put up with my anger as long as there were no demands that she improve her understanding of sharing.

She stole.  

Broke me and broke my heart.

Fucked whoever told her she was pretty. Told me daily that I didn't love her (don't I get to have a vote on those arguments?  I can assure you the answer is "no",)

Now I am purely alone.  I have withdrawn from all my significant relationship.  I live on top of a mountain by myself and often don't leave the house.  I don't reply to emails or texts with any consistency and have thousands of unopened messages.  None from anyone I care about.  

The only person I care about is my ex-wife, and she hasn't offered a kind word in decades. To me or anyone else.  She's a cold stone.  

I recognize that leaving the human sphere is not a good trend line.  I'd advise friends to struggle against this, if I had any advice to offer.  But the combination of PTSD, depression, loneliness, and a lifetime of self-defeating self-hatred have now all come home to roost.  

If I say something like "I should call XXXX," I never do it.  If I say I'll show up for something, I often don't.  When I meet new people, I know I will fail to follow through on kind invitations within a week.

This is how I've felt my entire life, since I was a little little boy, except now it is pure.  There is nothing shielding me from my absolute isolation or my powerlessness against the will to disappear.  

I apologize to my lovely self that we, together, do not currently have another option.

I can't imagine what that would be.  A car trip in Europe?  How would that be different. It makes no difference between my couch and my bed and the outer reaches of the billion light year colliding galaxies that provide evidence of dark matter we can't touch.

Acid, mushrooms, MDMA, ketamine, edibles, martinis.  Yuck.  No difference.  Coke transports me but the depression the day after is WAY WAY WAY too scary.  

I hate Mina not because of her cheap meanness--like me, that's how she grew up and who she's living with now when she looks in the mirror.  I hate Mina because she likes to destroy those she discards, and has successfully done it many times, and that means her victims end up broken...and isolated.

Generally full of aggravated self-hate.  We who loved Mina have all been raped. I am her second or third or fourth most destroyed victim.

So--now I'm ashamed of the man I've always been, since age 4...independent, self-sufficient, optimistic, desiring to please.  Those aren't bad things, until you end up raped, alone on the top of a mountain, afraid, and needing eternal silence.

I have never NOT been alone like this.  Mina helped me hide it with her eternal efforts to control her life and others.  The death of my father helped me hide it once when Mina was fucking someone else and absent as usual.  Others gave me short coverage for the final truth.  My epitaph.  I will die and no one will know, and it's certain now.

I wonder if I will post to this private blog the day I die.  My kadish, alone. You have no choice when you're the last person up for the firing squad. I will stand looking forward, tall and straight, when I die. Independent, self-sufficient, desiring to please.  Optimistic.