Life Is Not A Worthwhile Phenomenon

This day is a gift, an unopened package – forever
lost to me while this pain rages in my head, ate
indiscriminately when I should follow strict rules
to keep the pain from invading my life, now another
spell in hell before I can really see the sun again,
pride keeps me harping on the theme of the beauty
of this day, not willing to hear a word of sympathy.

I love paper, being so patient, I can confess all my
unhappiness without feeling guilty about making
an even bigger mess by invading the happy lives
of others with my problems – for which I have to
accept responsibility, had I followed the pre-set
rules and regulations – NEVER eat cake that’s
been on a supermarket shelf for longer than a
day – I would have been okay.

I manage to live through small, bite-size chunks
of my day, but the constant pain in my muscles and
neck, the heaviness in my head, is a wonderful
reminder of what life must have felt like in a
concentration camp, what Siberian women
experienced in the Gulag, how it must have
been when interrogated in the Lubjanka, what
POW’s must have lived through while building
the bridge over the river Quay, at least the allergy
allows me a larger range of experience than simply
playing at being Pollyanna or Anne of Green Gables
improving life with the glad game, today I’m not
glad for anything, the only thing that could improve
my mood today is blowing this earth to smithereens
and killing all life-forms, doing away with the
multiverse - just finishing all forms of consciousness
so that the heavenly state of nothingness reigns
supreme, since all joy must be balanced by its
opposite – pain, since all life is a slow process of
dying, since all love is just a dance in a tragic-comedy,
this life is not a worthwhile phenomenon –
it beats me why it ever came into being…