“”From my Facebook Page!” “(c) 2016 by kerasotes””

Last night was awful. I bore people. I bore myself. The last part of Michael won’t do his job of getting well. Even though it means he dies, he becomes a part of the whole again like Michael’s doctor said. What a crummy way of putting it isn’t it. You die to get well. No wonder he’s had such a horrible time with this since 1995. I’m losing friends on here left and right. I’m sorry if all I write about it me and my problems and his. That’s all I’ve got. Problems. All day long listening to someone who has 50 different voices of people I’ve never met most of whom Michael knew during childhood say up till his sister talked and that’s it. He switches from one voice to the other all day long. He never uses his adult voice. He’s never finished a conversation in the same voice. He’s never considered getting well. He’ll talk about it but never do it. It is why everyone left. I don’t think I can do it anymore and have decided to wait until Next Week to see if the doctor answers my letter. I don’t know if he will. I don’t even know if he can help. I know he told me I don’t look like I ever had cancer and that my nurse thinks I look good. It’s you go there, say hello, chat, be friends, like each other, then wait for the doctor to come to say something about what you told the nurse and he doesn’t. He just asks why you’re there and then you think everything is going to be alright because he doesn’t bring up death. Then you think you’ll be alright. It isn’t. I start crying when I leave. I stop sometime on the hour or half hour bus ride back home depending on the traffic. To watch a movie is okay but you have someone else here whom you got the movie for in hopes that he’ll be quiet and have some good time and thoughts for a while and not make voices. It doesn’t work. You get up every morning and it’s out for a cigarette you don’t like and he can’t smoke because that’s what they’ve done for 59 years before you got here. All the people that you used to like to talk to and learn from are gone. We don’t have intelligent conversations that last. Every day is a repeat of the day before. It isn’t fair. I wanted my chance to see if I could possibly get this body well from all the things and I never got it. So I did some great things. Life isn’t doing great things every day I was told. Life was supposed to be enjoy each day before you die. After 8 death sentences and then the chemo and radiation that just doesn’t work anymore. It takes a severe toll on your body and its systems and you’re lost wondering if your going to live to make breakfast or get to the table just to sit. After that it’s wrestle with someone who never has done one good thing on his own to help you. He’s just been your enemy and not your friend even though you’ve tried to help him and friend him almost every day of your life. I am still trying. I don’t like giving up. I keep thinking that after all these years of therapy and treatments and doctors and books and movies that I’ve read and so have the others (who are gone) that it will get better and he’ll leave. Leave sounds better than die to get well. Integrate used to work best for me but that word annoys him so I don’t use it any more and use the ones he used for all these years say since 1994 when Michael re-found that there were other people here. Michael really never knew there were like 53 of us here and him. Awful isn’t it. He was the original and it is his picture I’ve put up here. So what do I do today? Do I try not to bore people with my story that will never be happy or end well because I think I’m going to die like every doctor and tech told me. I’m in an awful rut and awful state and don’t feel well. In fact, I have never felt well nor been happy for long. Now I am never happy. I never have fun. It’s like looking at a beautiful world all gone dark and black. It is full of facts. They bore me. Interesting things happen and I get a moment to talk about them but the rest of the time I’m being punished because the other one can’t torture Michael so he picks on me instead. I can’t live this way anymore. I have a way to go. I was shown it by the me who said we all do. I am going to opt out to leave and then my life will be over and there will be no more problems for me all day long even in sleep. I don’t get to escape my problems in sleep like Michael said. I have to listen to the other and the dreams in voices instead of how Michael did. That’s enough boring dull horrible facts for the day. I hope they help you people who have been so kind as to like these posts and have a happier life. If they’ve helped other people and I know they have for they’ve told me and us over the years and that is really why I write so some one else in my predicament or situation or close to it feels better because they aren’t alone in their horror. So that’s about it for now. I think that it would have been better if the teams of doctors were right last year and that when the two weeks they gave us to live ended we’d have died.

I’ll leave it at that today. Thank you. Kind regards, me.


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