Send in the clowns

Right, so now I'm ill again, with the same mystery illness, for the fourth time. I've effectively been sacked by my job, after I resigned. I've managed to fall into another trap, I've managed to make a poor girl fall hopelessly in love with me. I've got no emotion. I've no confidence. I've lost inportant friends. One of my friends is on life support in a coma. So yeah, it's errrr... Not looking great. I've no idea if and when I'll get better. So, I'm another year on, further away from what I planned, and completely and utterly miserable. I don't think I'd be too gutted to not wake up tomorrow. As long as death simply meant death, and that I literally didn't exist anywhere at all, and no concept or consciousness, then I'm sound for all that, because my life a nightmare. So now I've got no health, no job. One of my best mates hates me, my first ex girlfriend is now with my ex best friend who bans her from contacting any of us. The only girl I ever loved is with some geek, and it turns out she didn't love me but simply needed someone to look after her mental health. And Liverpool are shit. And I have some dirty ear infection. I've spent 4 grand to look worse than I did before, and I absolutely hate myself, both in appearance and personality. So yeah, not all that bothered of my body throws in the towel. I could get up, mount some unfounded challenge to rebuild my life, but, I can't, because I actually can't go anywhere because I can't see properly and it fucks up my head. Can't explain why it's so debilitating. But it is. Can't find love coz apparently my subconscious feels the need to protect itself from the humiliation of this year. So yeah, the record books will have me down as only ever loving some girl who hated me, used me, tried to change me, and then humiliated me. Sound. What a result that is. What a roaring success I've been. I used to fight for titles and stuff. Now I am rooted to rock bottom. I've been to the motorway hill to stand and have time to myself and try to work things out, but all the while the racing traffic looks the most appealing fate. The temptation not to stand in the fast lane is a difficult resistance. I don't know if this is some kind of challenge or just pure bad luck, but, fine, you win, I lose. I can't cope. I can't do this illness again. I don't want to do this once a year either for the rest of my life. I'm just gonna live in fear of some mystery illness that completely fucks my life up, destroys me, and I lose my job and social life as a result. Nah. Rather not be here to worry about all that crap. It's not like I've got kids to worry about or leave behind, or a partner. Ok, I've got family but then it was only three years ago I was abandoned by them, so yeah, I'm sure it's recoverable. But I'm done. This is a pointless struggle. If I haven't even got my health then it's out of my hands and I can do nothing. So it'll go one of two ways, I'll get better or I'll end up drinking myself to death, coz that looks like the path I'm on. I wish this was a joke, or attention seeking, but it ain't. I can't cope nor do I wish to watch myself be ravaged and slowly fade to nothing like I did two years ago, and I'm not going to. End of. The control is still mine.