The thoughts keep coming back. I've struggled with the thoughts for 32 years. I'm not sure what to say. They don't go away. If death is the absense of hope, the loss of all possibility, then in reality I'm already dead. I am a walking dead man. Matters little if I take my own life or die of natural causes. Earth to earth ashes to ashes dust to dust. I pray for the last breath. The breath that will take my life and set me free. Last summer I went by the house I grew up in. The owner let me walk through the house. As we stood in the dining room. I just began weeping. I hate life. I lost my chance at love and life. Now it is just a matter of living it out to the end.