I think I’m going to take a break from writing these blog posts, and I may quit doing them entirely.

They aren’t doing me any good‒they’re certainly not encouraging anyone to buy my books or to listen to my music.  They also aren’t functioning successfully as any sort of therapy, which was a large part of my hope.

Of course, it’s possible that my mental health would have been even worse if I hadn’t been doing this blog, but it couldn’t have been that much worse‒almost by definition‒and maybe I would have reached a catastrophic failure at some point sooner than it’s going to happen now, and at least I wouldn’t have had to suffer through the extra time I have in this branch of reality.

And finally, not least, this blog certainly isn’t working as any kind of cry for help for me, though I’ve tried to use it that way.  Perhaps there’s just too much of a “bystander effect” for this to function effectively in that mode.

I’m pretty sure these posts are not doing any good for anyone out there in the world.  There are people who are entertained by them sometimes, of course, and they tell me so, and I appreciate that.  But that’s not a strong enough motivation to keep going.  My apologies; I do not intend to denigrate you in any way, my readers.  It’s just that my strength is running out, and I feel horrible, physically and mentally.

I’ve been doing this blog at least partly as a habit, continuing the morning writing I did for years when working on my fiction.  I’m not writing fiction anymore.  It just feels too futile.

I don’t think my stories are bad.  I think some of them are pretty darn good.  But only a handful of people will ever read any of them, and though many people will say that one does art mainly for oneself‒and at some level, that is definitely true‒one also really wants to be appreciated.  Likewise for music.

I mean, yes, Van Gogh painted many paintings in his lifetime, though he only sold one…but then again, he did cut off his ear and end up killing himself, too (I knew he was a genius).

Anyway, although even Stephen King writes because he must‒so he says, and I don’t doubt him‒I don’t think he would have written nearly as many books if no one were buying them.  It just gets discouraging after a while.

I may do some little audio snippets here and there and share them on this blog.  Sometimes those can be rewarding, and they’re usually brief, and as long as I keep the editing to a minimum, they’re not too much effort.  I have a few little rants I’d like to go on sometime soon.  So those will probably appear here, if I end up doing them.  But otherwise, I don’t see the point in much else.

I honestly don’t want to go to work anymore.  Of course, today is payroll day, so I’m going, because people would be left in the lurch if I didn’t.  But it’s not rewarding, except in the obvious and banal way.  I mean, there are people at the office with whom I get along, but as has been the case most of my adult life, people mainly spend time with me because I’m useful.

I am useful, in many ways.  And it is nice to be useful.  But it has its limits.  Even at work, I try to get across to people how much distress I’m in, without being too melodramatic, but nobody seems really to take me seriously.

I guess that’s one of the drawbacks of having a dark and odd sense of humor and also having difficulty expressing one’s emotions.  Even if you talk about trying to stretch the pain out of your back by using a noose‒as I did yesterday, which was a particularly painful day‒people don’t seem to realize that really, suicide seems more and more attractive all the time.

I can’t easily participate in the comments anymore on a website I’ve followed for a long time, and I don’t think the host likes me, anyway, though I admire and like him and have enjoyed following his website, and recommend it readily.  To be fair, I am weird, and I am dark, and I tend to bring people down.  Does the fact that I get on some people’s nerves surprise anyone?

So, yeah, I don’t think I’m going to be writing any more blog posts for a while, and I may not write any ever again.  And, again, I may put audio stuff up here‒and I may turn some or all of them into “videos” as well, and put those on YouTube‒but I don’t have a planned schedule for those things right now, so we’ll have to see what happens.

Anyway, I’m feeling queasy/nauseated (and probably nauseous, but that’s for you all to judge) right now, and my train will be here soon.  Try to have a good day, and a good year, and a good rest of your lives.  Somebody ought to do it, and it’s not likely to be me.