Before this thought was even finished, the reality set in- the bleak reality of constant agony, the exasperating inability to concentrate, the exhausting drain felt after even the simplest of actions, the feeling that I've been 90 since I was 9.
I sat here at the keyboard, believing I might be able to focus long enough to bang out a blog post, but I can't get through three words without my mind freezing up. Words once came to me when I needed them. I was once able to complete a sentence without losing my train of thought to this mental BSOD.
How can I consider this life to be charmed? A better word for it would be cursed. I am cursed with eternal pain and exhaustion, never able to remember, never able to complete what I begin. Doomed always to rely upon others.
Conquered by FM back when I was young and vibrant, my life has slowly wasted away. I'm 35 years old, and I've accomplished nothing. Each time I've reached for I dream, my arm has been pulled back by an invisible adversary. The whole of my existence can be summed up in one word: pain.
Pain is my everything- my bitter enemy, my constant companion, my bitter enemy, the mother and father of my every action, the center of my every thought. Every minute of every day, my goal is simple- minimize the pain. I must avoid anything that may increase the pain. In so doing, I avoid anything that may bring pleasure. I avoid anything that may bring satisfaction. I avoid life itself. I feel forever unsatisfied, always tortured, alway pained.