[This was the turning point. However, I now am missing two pages. It goes up anyway. sch 10/2/22]
I guess I continue to come to a better realization that I was completely nuts and now completely screwed. I also guess some spark of life remains in me.
Beginning April 17 or 18, I started having memories pop up. Things not thought of for a very long time. These Bible books Mom bought us in the late Sixties, Mrs. Marks' parakeets, baby sister a fishhook in her leg, camping out of Aunt Mary Ellen's and Uncle Bob's with Paul and Mike (1965), the toad I caught that died out there in Massachusetts (1965). Very weird - as if they just bob up from a deep place. It started when I asked myself when did all this craziness start?
What still has not returned: my curiosity, my tempter, my pugnacity, my ambitions. I write and I write all but the two stories that have been in my head for a long time. It is as if I had decided to take nothing in that is new, but kicking out what is old. I rarely say a whole sentence to anyone here. I only talk on the telephone, and when I have visitors. I find myself getting emotional over the hurt I inflicted on friends and family. The closest I come to anger is that I will be spending 15 years by taxpayer dollars and that that is just a waste of money.
Since I assume the dead have no ambitions or emotions, then I have accomplished one goal in a metaphysical way. I can say for the first time in my life, I am truly beaten. Whatever I was, or whatever was myself, before my arrest, no longer exists. But do the dead cry for the living?
I have begun praying again. I pray for the welfare of others. For myself, I do pray for a quick death and an end to my being such a boring bother. I have a letter to write, and then I will begin asking for death, again.
***
sch
[Of course, I did not die. My ex-wife had come to me one visitation and mentioned one of her sons had been threatening suicide. I had enough sense of responsibility remaining to me to put suicide aside, to wait on death rather than force the issue. This was when I understood the cost of my choice, of changing my plans. My education started here. The first lesson was the damage done to friends and family which I did not anticipate, or if anticipated thought my death would put paid to any debts. sch 10/2/22.]
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