A lot has been happening, good and bad. I got a new job, my dream job I guess, in a sub-tropical city. You might tend to think that life is perfect for me.
Don’t envy me yet.
I ain’t makin’ the big bucks for nothin’. I’m constantly stressed and live every moment waiting for my next Xanax fix. I almost died of fright when the pharmacy wouldn’t refill it until exactly 30 days had passed.
As I type, my recent dose is starting to wear off, revealing the terror that dwells beneath my skin: worry and degrading thoughts from work today. See, I’m still a teacher, but my students are not just any students. I can’t reveal too much, but I wonder if it’s too much for me to handle.
Going back to my thankless job in Dallas has never occurred to me; that’s a step backward that I cannot take.
Today I considered suicide as an option for the first time in a while. If I lose my “dream job,” I would have nowhere else to go.
Would I sadden a lot of people? Yes. Would it be worth the trade? Yes, perhaps.
I can’t believe I’m thinking all of this, especially after God gave me a second chance with a new, improved life. The thing is, though, I’m still me; my innermost being is still the same weak, decrepit soul that can’t seem to “man up” and face my obstacles.
Jeez, I’m still a kid!
But I’m not. Not really. I’m in my mid-40s.
God, I’m really just a scared kid! I want my mom and dad!
But they’re not here. My wife is sick of my crap. It’s just me. And God. But I have never learned to consistently love God and be close to Him.
Suicide is not an option.
But it is, kind of.
I’m not supposed to type that here. It might be a trigger for some people. I have to tell somebody, though.
(Photo by Topaz)