Fuck This (We Are All Just Insects, Part I)

My mom is slipping into the abyss of death, taking a slow train. The more the Alzheimers sets in, the less stress she feels in life - because literally nothing exists from one second to the next - so, most likely, the longer she will live... as a vacant representation of a mother I once had.

My heart is broken.

She wasn't a great woman, she was just a lovely woman
She didn't accomplish anything, nor did she set out to
She just came, lived, and then something ate her brain.

Apparently, this is all there is to life and somehow, SOMEHOW, I fucking missed this.

I shoved Polly-Anna so far up my ass -

Even after everything thing that ever happened to me, every time life shoved me face down, I would just spring back up ready to fight the odds, giddy to fight the odds. A real scrapper.

But, for what? So that I can break my children's hearts - the people that I have spent every day of my adult life protecting, the last thing they will know of me is how I broke their fucking heart by leaving? By becoming nothing? Having never been fully truthful with them about the fact that our time on this earth MEANS FUCKING NOTHING.

It means nothing. It's just time. Monotonous time until you die. It's the waiting line for death. We're all standing in the same line up pretending that somehow it's meaningful.

I've been my own ray of fucking sunshine, the cheer leader in the line up "Chin up everyone, this is it, let's win this game, you got this. Go, go go.... Yay!"

and then something came along and ate my mothers brain, turned her into a sweet little vegetarian zombie, providing a little slice, a preview, of what's on the other side of this line up that we're all so excited to be a part of: fucking nothing.

I'm still going to do all the things I think I'm meant to do, but I see now that it's nothing more that the biological function. Having hope is just as much a function of our bodies as is need to dispose of waste. We're no different than an insect; it's just in our evolutionary process, we've had to make some sense of the existentialism our brilliant brains created, and... we call it spirituality, goals, love

but in the end, the very end, it's just human waste.

We all live to fertilize the earth. Simple organic biology. Insects.