Besides, I don't have 1.9 billion dollars to spare

Are you an earthling?

If not, will you PLEASE

PLEASE

PPPLLLLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAASSE

come get me and get me the fuck out of here?

And if you are, well... you're probably safe. I can't afford 8.01 billion bullets, or even a gun for that matter. Plus I have no taste for killing. Not even mercy-killings. Not even myself. Not even a mouse.

A mouse has been living in my room for a while now. On Friday I trapped him in my waste basket and promptly fucked up and let him get away. Being not too bright he almost immediately returned to the waste basket (where I'd recently discarded something peanut buttery) and I immediately trapped him again and then immediately fucked up and let him go again and then he returned again and I trapped him again and this time boxed him securely and with my walker I delivered him one block away and dumped him "into" the storm drain BUT he managed to land on the grate and took off back up the street like a fart in a wind storm.

I tootled back home and he was already back in my bedroom waiting for me. No mistake. It was definitely HIM. I recognize his physical... blemishes. He's no magazine model. 

At least I know how to trap him now and so I will again very shortly and this time flush him down the toilet and he can ride the sewer system down town. I don't think he'll get back from there.

I've been through the two worst crises of my life in the last year and I have gained some pretty deep and unexpected insights into the matter of suicide. It still makes no sense in most cases but I understand places the mind can go which make it seem very convincingly the only option. 

Other then being physically trapped and tortured or entering the dire late stages of a terminal illness... there is a last resort; something I've pondered since decades ago and something consolidated by Augusten Burroughs in his book This is How: Surviving What You Think You Can't, which I read a long while back because I was such a Burroughs fan as well as being very compelled at the time by the tragic phenomenon of teen suicide; especially gay teen suicide. The last resort being some combination of escape and starting over. I won't venture into the details at this time. They're not particularly new; likely not even to you.

I'm close to recovery from the critical injuries I endured eleven months ago. I'm roughly five months in to a campaign launched by key members of my family to destroy my fucking heart. 

They've not expressed specific complaints about me. They apparently claim to have nothing against me. But they're afraid of bed bugs at all cost.

ALL COST.

Imagine not letting someone into your home because you're afraid of bed bugs and associated potential costs in having them exterminated. Imagine believing that such a visitor is incapable of measures to ensure they are currently uncontaminated before visiting.

Easy to imagine perhaps? Now keep in mind that the spread of bed bugs in this manner is incredibly rare. I'll give you two reasons why. They don't choose to hang out on a human body. Their instinct is to feed and then run back into hiding. Bedbugs DO NOT normally transfer like a parasite or virus. They spread because a nest gets relocated because it's in luggage or some other relocated possession. Sometimes a bedbug might get caught up in clothing from an ill-timed feed (normally done in the middle of the night) when the host leaves the dining area and goes on the move. But not only does the critter need to remain on the host for the duration of the trip (in my case a combination of lengthy bus rides just for starters) but the critter can't be solo. You need a combination of bugs capable of breeding when they get to their new home. And BTW there are AT LEAST three compelling reasons why a successfully relocated solo critter is extremely unlikely to be a pregnant female.

Already the scenario being feared here is extremely unlikely but now... lets start heading down the rabbit hole: 

Imagine that the person you are sacrificing because of this fear of a very unlikely bad time is your brother or your son, who has always loved you and he is going through this very hard time and is particularly lonely and being with his family has been his ONE JOY in life for the last year and he is now kept from his young niece and nephew who had meant the world to him and imagine your son/brother also carries the life long scar from being closeted at a time when straight society were frankly maniacally evil towards gays and the scar of fear of being de-grouped from his friends; a common, if not universal gay man's PTSD, and now here he is being de-grouped from his family: You've uninvited him from Thanksgiving, passed him over for his dad's and brother's birthdays and from Christmas and his own birthday. And now Easter approaches and it's becoming evident that you're passing on him again while he fucking hurts like hell.

Still with me? Imagining this are you? Well hold on to your fucking hat because things are about to get holy fuck surreal. Are you sitting down?

Imagine now that the human being you've sacrificed who is a brother you might profess to love if you were capable of saying the word despite whatever emotional disability you might likely have inherited from your completely emotionally-dysfunctional father who is such a sad broken emotional automaton he can't even hug his own sons, or a son you would never profess to love because you are that automaton; imagine... that this dear relative of yours that you will not allow to visit...

is not even a host of bed bugs. Imagine that he doesn't have bed bugs and never has.

Imagine that you are afraid because he has a neighbor three doors down who.... has...? bedbugs...?

No no. Wait. There's more. Imagine that this son/brother you've so easily crushed in fact does not have such a neighbor. Imagine that he had such a neighbor up until two months ago when that neighbor threw out his possessions and received the second of three sprayings and no bedbugs have been present in the building for two months.

Are you doing the math? Does this seam utterly fucking nuts to you?

If so, that's only because it is. It's nuts beyond my ability to grasp. It's inhumanly cruel beyond my ability to grasp and I am done with it now. When I think of my family it hurts too much and I AM NOT going on with this any more. I cannot survive this pain.

I can only survive by not thinking about them; by forgetting they exist.

Even if they suddenly invited me to Easter, it's almost certainly too late. I know that at my best I can be capable of forgiveness; forgiveness for the stupidity, forgiveness for the insult and even forgiveness for the cruelty.

But could I ever respect them again or find a fondness for them again? I don't know about that. I doubt it. I do know that I'll never be able to trust them again.

But that's me in my BEST moments, on my best days. Keep in mind that this nut fuckery is only the bulk of the iceberg.  All my closest allies have devolved into pixelated zoom and skype characters. I am the loneliest fucker on the planet and the zooming and skyping have become a torture. They just mock me; remind my of my loneliness while the so-called "conversations" on these platforms are logistically dysfunctional. I feel no closeness looking at the fuzzy pictograms of people I once sensed I loved. I'm very dead inside. Love has crept into hiding.

What I foresee happening; as per the second of three modes I seem to inhabit now, emotionally, is not suicide but escape and starting over. Escape. Disappear; especially from the internet, change my name and begin a new life which is not filtered through a computer, befriended to anyone who wants to see me live in person. I'll give my address to the world around me. I'll be open for business. Visitors welcome 24-7. I do feel like that's where this is all going. I have felt it for months now.

As for my worst moments; my worst days; like times I think of the people who were once my family; those times... I find myself honesty wishing that every earthling would be gone and I was the last man on Earth. Seems strange eh? For someone afflicted with crippling loneliness... but that's how I often feel.

Maybe because if I was truly alone, then no one could disgust me. No one could disappoint me. No one could hurt me.

But don't worry. That's not a scenario I'm capable of manifesting.