Dog Days

 I fucking hate summer.

Don't get me wrong, there are things I like about it. I like sitting in dark, air-conditions theaters watching the big summer blockbusters. I like the beautiful summer sunsets. I like hanging out with my family and having cookouts and the abundance of things there is to do during this time of year. I like having a good excuse to consume mass quantities of cold beverages. I love long summer drives in the country with the windows rolled down and the stereo cranked up.

But summer sucks ass, too. With every passing day, we get closer to the long cold dark of winter. The potential possibilities the year holds quickly dwindle, replaced by the realization that I'm wasting so many opportunities to turn my life around and get myself onto a track I actually want to be on. More time streams by while I cling to things that feel familiar and comfortable but also are incredibly destructive and unhealthy.

This summer has been different in one major way: This is the first year that I've seriously entertained the idea that I'm too far gone for things to get better. This is as good as it will ever get for me. I'm too broken to even hope for a better ending.

It really hit me this weekend when my family was over. I was watching my niece's and nephew's kids tear around the lawn like bats out of Hell and I realized that this is something I'll never get to have for myself. I'm never gonna get to have small children of my own. 

That was sobering. 

Add to the fact that thanks to my stupid heart failure, I really struggle in the summer heat. The least strenuous of activities cause me to sweat buckets. The best way for me to deal with the heat is to avoid it by hiding from it in my basement and if I'm unlucky enough to have to go out in it, to stay as still as possible. I'm like a lizard sunning myself on a stone, only I'm not enjoying it. I'm completely fucking miserable. All I can do is as close to nothing as I can while daydreaming that I'll survive long enough to make it to fall, when the temperatures will be much more agreeable to me.

So there I was, suffering through the anxiety of having a house full of guests and knowing at any moment, I could say something offensive or stupid or embarrassing (probably all three simultaneously), realizing I had gone to seed and there wasn't much for me to look forward to. I tried to put on a happy face and if I thought smearing Joker makeup across my face would've helped convince anyone including myself that I was ok, I would've fucking done it. And I'm a Marvel, not a fucking DC.

The only solace I found is that my great-nephew and great-nieces seem to like me ok. That took some of the sting out of realizing how much I've fucked myself over and how deep a hole I've dug for myself. But let's face it, I'm running out of time and with my health the way it is, I'm closer to the grave than the rest of you normies. How do you pull out of a dive this steep?

I wish I could tell you there's a happy ending but this isn't over so I can't even offer you that. The only optimistic signs I see are the fact that I haven't completely given in yet. I'm close but I have a tiny bit of fight left in me. I also realize that this is just one day and not every day will be this dark. Also, I really wanna stick around for Clerks 3 in September and the MCU Fantastic 4 movie in 2024. But how much longer can I use movies as motivation to keep on keeping on, especially if I keep failing at getting what I want most? It truly feels like I was put on this planet to cheerlead as others score victories without racking up any myself. How much longer can I keep that up?

The question to answer here is the same question Agent Smith asked Neo at the end of The Matrix Revolutions. Why, Mr. Anderson? WHY DO YOU PERSIST? If I figure that out, I'll let you know.