tether

I am precarious at best. My last tether to this life is gone. What will obligate me to remain here now? A small dog with short legs, a possibility of a moment of nirvana, the promise of a different life without this ill mind? I have nothing. My few friends call and offer me help and I am grateful from the core of my being. My heart is filled momentarily, but what can they do for me? I am suddenly middle aged and I have nothing. I will lose my apartment soon, and then my car and very soon, even the ability to write on this site; something that has sustained me these many months after the hospital, the mind loss, the end of last of the reserves of my youthful ambition that allowed me to plod along and make a living for myself. And now, my poor mother, my poor miserable mother with her sad limited life; the only person who checked in with me on a regular basis, the only person I felt I had to try to function for, my last frayed thread of a link, is gone so suddenly and so shockingly and I have no last resort. How lucky are the masses with their faith and hope and fabricated alliances and caution to the wind offspring that anchor them to the earth. I have nothing. A small dog with short legs, non-committal relatives burdened with their own lives, friends with normal relationships and support systems who earnestly ask, "What can I do for you?" and I think, "Can you give me a reason to get through this next hour? and can you call me in an hour and give me another? Can you give me a new family; the one I dream about from New England? The one with boundaries and efficacy and resources? The one with manageable addictions, college educations, no genetic predispositions to mental illness, some appropriate sense of obligation, belief systems rooted in logic and reasonable demeanors? Can you give me that please? That's all I need." I have nothing. And I know I have more than some. That doesn't comfort me right now.