Mom and suicide by donut

Well, this post finds me as low as I have been in a while. (7/6/21 was when this was written, perhaps that is why it took so long to post it).

It is weird the way we live for things that have not yet come to pass.

I did get some interesting information today which I don't know entirely how to process; but I will get to it in due time, probably not today.

We need reasons to live, and so when we lose them, we need other reasons to go on.  If there is nothing left, then we are left with nothing but to eat donuts until they kill us.  I ate two donuts today.  They could have been fantasy donuts because my life seems more tied to the fantasy of the future, than the present.

I am surviving, if not thriving today, because of my inability to believe what is happening.  And so when I decide it is better to die than to live this way, I look to the donut as a vehicle of death.

Did I already say that I had amended the first edition of the NPTE?  I cancelled the initial order since it would have made no sense.  I made a smaller order of what is not the first edition but which masquerades as the first edition.

This is a weird post from 9/13.

I am trying to figure out what or who I was talking about.

Mom is my mom?  How on earth would  a 10 year old abandon anyone?  No I clung tightly there, although in the end, when I could see death in the blank stare, the last troubled breaths, the complete lack of a reaction to a child's last kiss; I was saying goodbye, and I suppose I knew it was for the last time and not just the day in some way in the way a 10 year old knows anything.

Can I excuse myself for all the madness I caused because of what happened to me more than 40 years ago?  Does that child continue to live in me?  Certainly the memory is one of a few so burned into my brain that I can picture it with great clarity, my father angry, guilty, uncertain and completely unfamiliar to how to handle the task.  The same could certainly be said about me then and perhaps today.

How deeply I feel for everyone else, afraid to move lest I hurt anyone and thereby hurting everyone.  Is that what happened with my father?  Oh how tortured he turned out to be; how unready everyone was and perhaps how unready and defective we all are today because of that one cold morning that I try so hard not to think of but which is, after all, the last moment of me and mom.

Do you think I abandoned mom
just because i was young
and because she was dying
then why would i abandon you
when you are so much to me