I understand. I have loathed myself since my youth.

Everything I do turns to shit. Failed career. Failed side hustle. Failed marriage. A daughter who is incapable of saying, “I love you, Dad.” Failed engagement. Failed dates. Failed ministry as an Episcopal priest.

You name it. I have fucked it up. Most of my congregation hates me. Or at least, they are profoundly disappointed in me. Because even though I am part-time, they hate that I don’t show up full time.

I live in squalor because three bouts of Covid led to three rounds of long Covid. I can barely walk and so cleaning my house is impossible. I can’t afford to hire help, and most people tell me long covid is a lazy man’s dodge; an excuse to keep from adulting.

A wonderful woman loves me now. I can’t understand why. She’s much younger and she wants me - but I fear that I will just turn her life to shit. I’m human excrement. I have disappointed EVERYONE including my parents, God, my the Church, previous partners, friends, and siblings.

I feel like I would be protecting her if I jumped off a bridge. There’s a beauty not too far from here and I have wondered if I might not be doing everyone a favor, you know?

I’m almost 60. I’ve amounted to zero.

Yes. I have been in therapy. I am in therapy. Yes. I am on antidepressants. I’m on everything but roller skates. Mostly worthless. Because losers gonna lose, yanno? It’s DNA. It’s in the script. My parents knew it early on.

Don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything drastic. Why? Because I don’t have the balls. I’m a gutless coward. I want to. I want to protect her from my life of fail. But I’m too afraid that if I did jump, I’d survive. And end up living to 100, shitting in my pajamas, drooling, and watching Murder She Wrote.

I SO know how you feel.