Depression Is Devouring Me

Depression Is Devouring Me

I'm a 60 year old male who is in excellent physical health aside from having little problems like difficulty peeing and digesting food. Those problems are relatively easy to live with.

I have a job at a successful family owned business that requires no brains or ability and pays me well. I have it only from sympathy because I am such a bust out.

I have lots of women to go out with although no one to love other then my grown children who I am close to.

There has been a wonderful, beautiful, intelligent lady in my life for decades who I love and loves me with all her heart and soul and watches over me even though she is with another man. Most importantly, she listens to me endlessly agonize to her about this excuse for a life I lead without ever losing patience.

I have withdrawn from everything else except to enjoying only writing because it allows me to escape from the utterly hopeless, helpless, desperate, directionless feeling of emptiness and nowhere to go in this life that I constantly feel.

I am really not a writer but it's theraputic and free and I have this gamblers dream that I will catch on somewhere even though I cannot even figure out how to put links in my blog.

So, here I sit, alone at 2.30 a.m. in my little apartment, a victim of my own addictions to drugs, gambling, women, and wildness which has caused me to become an alien in my own world. My lifelong desire for action action action has reduced me to mental immobility. I fear I am finished.