I don’t care. I don’t give a fuck. Nothing matters anymore. I’m done.
I guess this are all different ways of saying what is, for me anyway, essentially the same thing.
I want to just tell my ex-wife everything. I’d probably never see my kids again. That’s ok. I’m really in no shape to be seeing them anyway. And, maybe, it’ll soften the blow a little when I finally die. That’s a nice thought, but it’s probably not true.
I want to kick my roommate out. I make her life a living hell anyway. Plus, I really just want to be left alone while I go through with this. She’s been on my nerves lately and I’m just tired of dealing with her shit. She doesn’t have anywhere to go but, hey, not my problem. I’ve already freely admitted to being a horrible person.
The idea of quitting my job and living off my retirement accounts until I die has more and more appeal lately. I’m not ready to do it (yet). I’m still enjoying my job, for the most part, and it does help take my mind off the shit storm that is my life.