I get the fear of life. I get the fear of everything that has to do with living. Of time passing me by and not caring how I feel or that I had an awful day that doesn't matter anymore because it's gone. Time doesn't care. I don't think that I fear death anymore. I am not in a place where I would bring it on, but I wouldn't mind getting smashed up in my car or not waking up in the morning because I stroked out during the night. I live alone and support myself. I am not the most important person in anybody's world. So it would not be too much of a hardship on anybody for me not to be here.

Sorry if that's too much of a downer, or a poor, poor pitiful me. I don't want sympathy. I want understanding.