There's no point to me. I don't make millions of dollars for corporations, or myself. I have no close family younger than me. I live alone. At the rate I'm going I'll die alone and I'll be buried alone. I'm not sure there will be a funeral for me. Who will find the body? A neighbor? A friend? The police? A robber? How long will I have been dead? How long will I be dying? Will my death be short, painless and merciful, or will I fall down for example, and suffer for days? Will I have hit triple digits, or will I get a totally unexpected aneurysm when I lay myself down to sleep tomorrow night? Regrets? Yeah, um, you can't regret anything you didn't have the power to do.

Don't concern yourself, dear reader. I'm far from planning to kill myself. But at this age you learn to be realistic with certain expectations. No one wants an old, unused fart. It's the worst of both worlds. On top of that an old, unused fart has been unused for a reason. Think about that. I've been thinking about it for decades. I don't even pray for that shit anymore. Either God hates me or God is punishing me for the sins of my ancestors. Or it's Darwinism in action. We simply need to pull in the reigns of human procreation and I'm part of the cutbacks. I'm not even in the reserves.

Please no words of encouragement or optimism. I've heard them all. I appreciate the attempt to be supportive but they don't help, just make the void I'm in more prominent.