Eclectic Epitomes of Erroneous Errors

Who am I?

That is a question I ponder and as of yet, I have no positive answer. A dreamer half stuck in the land of dreams. That boundary is such a fine line for me. My old blog, Dreamer Always, was unintentionally accurate. I have Narcolepsy and quite literally I am always dreaming. My mind cannot distinguish between waking and sleeping in the same manner as brains that are healthy and free of disease. I have a disease, an imperfection without a cure.

It is an invisible disfigurement that I see every day. I try to live a normal life but this disease gets worse over time and it’s getting worse now, I’m fading. Soon enough, I’m sure my body will slip out of existence and  I will disappear. I once dreamed of being a writer, an author, a world renowned novelist. Except, I can’t finish a story and I hate editing words and all I want to do is sleep even though I took my medication this morning and I slept for seven hours last night. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters, because I will never see my dreams come true. I will never know peace and happiness because it isn’t in my cards. I was born in the wrong time, with the wrong hopes, dreams and prayers.

I give up. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep playing this game when I’m going to lose no matter what.

 

Life is a gamble and the odds are against us. The odds are not in our favor. ‘May the odds never be in your favor’ is something my mom jokingly said to me one day, but the truth is well, if I can mess something up I do if a situation has the ability to get worse it does. Well, for me it will. I am Calamity Jane. A walking catastrophe and I don’t know how to change it. Who was I in a previous life that I’m being so severely punished?

Tell me what errors did I make, what did I do wrong? Tell me what I need to do to fix it and I will fix it. Part of me just wants to destroy everything to see the predicted apocalypse happen and to know real pain. This pain I feel it’s maddening and I just want it to stop. I watched Torchwood last night and Exit Wounds (episode 13, Season 2) the antagonist was Gray, who was tortured for centuries on the edge of death. He said something like I just want to die. He was a tortured soul who blamed his brother for letting go. Gray wanted to punish his brother for the pain Jack (brother) caused. In the end Jack subdued Gray but the more I think about that show the more I realize that the writer was writing about life itself, why do we keep holding on?

The feeling of wanting to exit, to flee, to leave is one I fight every day. I just want to be done. I don’t want to be brought back to this point over and over again. Why am  I being forced to live this pain? As a writer I am utterly aware of the pain I am in. It’s why I don’t look at my emails or my texts, as both are reminders of how inadequate I am.

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