Extraneous

I have come to the end of my usefulness on this plane of existence. 

In fact, I don’t think I have ever been needed. Or wanted. Or useful at all.

Like those plastic landfill trinkets that dentist office’s or schools give out for holidays: the spider rings for Halloween, the spinning tops that wobble a couple times before falling back down. Miniature slinky’s that don’t work.

Sure, they seem fun. But they are looked at for a few minutes before they are recognized for the junk they are and discarded. 

Me. That’s me. 

My kids like his new girlfriend and her apparent son she has. She is probably level-headed with a good job. He will probably have her move in or they all get their own house and suddenly, my children have a real home. She probably cooks and cleans. Normal. 

What do they have with me?

A mother who can’t get out of bed most days, who gets stoned every night to sleep and is crying when she isn’t. A mother who can’t make ends meet. Dishes pile up. Laundry overflows. Litter boxes fill with shit. Housing that adds more rules, more constraints, methed-out neighbors. A mother who can’t even keep a man. Who is clearly unlovable and mentally ill.

Family that doesn’t reach out. Doesn’t care. 

My car is a second away from repo.

Debts I can’t pay back. 

Future bleak. Very bleak. 

A heart that is broken so fucking much. 

I cannot go on. I feel it in every shitty molecule of mine that my future is filled with pain. More pain. 

I’m an unlovable fucking piece of shit who has done nothing useful with my existence other than hurt people and being two kids into this world and can’t even give them a home. I give them a broken home because I couldn’t stay with him. I can’t make anything work. I can’t bring happiness to anybody. I speak my pain and it won’t be heard. 

I cry into the void. But now I want to fall into it and finally be free of my suffering. 

My last tether is my children. Was my children. But now I at least know their new mom is somebody they like. She is probably much better than I could ever hope to be.

I give up.  I really do. And who cares, right? Who truly cares? I’m nothing. Nothing at all.