Well, I've finally blown it now. When you can't distinguish gnats in front of your eyes, to spots, and you keep slapping your face while sitting on the porch on a hot morning, you know.

I've managed to fuck up my long life, I confess to that. What I deserved was to be found dead on the floor of that run down place in southern Tennessee. I fought to keep it going for five years, after losing Steph, but I failed.

I honestly tought I was saying goodbye to life on that day, using booze and weed to call it quits, but apparently I had been doing it for a while, friends say.

I had a Will somewhere that gave the few reaming valuables I had, to friends. I had enough money in the bank to barely cover a funeral, and I was all set to say goodbye to an interesting life.

I've been very fortunate to live a valuable one. I've loved deeply, but lost. I've created and taught, and hopefully won. But somewhere along the way I didn't have what it takes to win.

Lately I've watched and met a few men my age that did. Especially here in Pensacola, FL. This place is full of good looking, successful men, mostly military. They have beautiful wives, great kids, a home and a smile on their faces.

I don't blame anyone for my situation, except maybe my neighbor Daniel for finding me in my suicidal state, and changing it. Suddenly I'm surrounded by people in blue coats, laying in hospital beds with needles stuck in my body.

So this was my life, laying on a floor dead from abuse. I hadn't messed up too badly, I guess. I hadn't physically hurt anyone, and I was independent. But here I am, still alive, and still capable of fucking up.

Right now I'm sitting on one of the great chairs my sister gave us back in Idaho. Somehow it, and it's partner chair have remained with me, along with a few nice tables. Their survival is a story I've probably written upon, but I can't remember now.

The pain in my body and mind are somehow under control, due to the many prescribed drugs I take in quantity, four times a day. I've never been a pill guy, but these things are keeping me alive.

I found this out the other day when I arrived here at my new Florida home. I ran off into the hot sun of a downtown Pensacola morning, with no pills, Shelby had picked me up in the morning after an insanely long flight from Seattle and I ran off into town like the stupid old fucked up man I am.

I hung out at the cool bars, and got real drunk. Even got 86'd from one, by a nice young lady who blocked me at the door with a smile and said I wasn't welcome there anymore.

Shelby rescued me but the lack of my med's the previous day had messed up my body and my head, real bad. It showed me my destiny, I'm stuck taking almost a hundred ails a week for the rest of my living experience.

And where is the money coming from to cover this? Hell I only get less than a grand and a half a month, and that's barely going to cover other things.

I'm a financial burden on my grand-daughter, which saddens me. My son Riley and family have contributed greatly, while running their home from month to month, with two babies in the house.

But I'm not used to being a fucking burden! Yet now I'm accepting it thankfully, to my core. And good things happen occasionally, like the hot blond in a short red dress that just gave me a bowl of mac & cheese for lunch.