Something has to change

I have a birthday coming up this week. I am the Cinco de Mayo girl, after all.

I'll be 49 years old. How did I make it this far? How in the world can anyone think it's realistic for me to make it another 25 years or so. There's no way. My tolerance for pain, emotional distress, lack of social connections, and mental isolation is not infinite.

If I celebrate on Wednesday, what am I celebrating? I know what other people will acknowledge, but it's an empty day for me. I've done a lot to make life better for other people, but my life is not something for me to celebrate on my end. It's not worthy of that.

I'm fat, I'm slow, I'm dorky, I'm unpopular, unloved, unattractive, and I can't do anything right. I'm in chronic pain and I am a failure at having meaningful relationships. People do not like me. I can't stand me.

If nothing is going to change--and it appears it won't--then I want to die. Soon.