January 7, 2022

 Of course I knew it was coming, but I just found out that I have to leave this apartment on April 1. I’ve been living in this space since mid-May. It has gone on longer than I had first been told so it’s been a good thing. I did use it to get out of T apartment and ultimately her entire world. I am still grieving the loss of her in my life. She was a lot and filled my life with her love and interaction.

I spoke to Mary, my therapist this morning. At that point I didn’t know that I was going to have to move. I mean, of course, I knew I had to move but I didn’t know when. Now I know when and it is less than three months away.
I’m scared.
I have another appointment with Mary next Thursday. Maybe she can help me figure out what I can do. I could pick up and leave the country. I don’t think I want to live anywhere else in the USA other than NYC, but I don’t know if perhaps it is time for me to look into something radically different.
I have thought about just ending my life when I leave this place. That may still be the best thing to do. It may be what I want to do. I would not have to get old then. I mean, older, I’m rather old already.
I don’t want to hurt my brother by killing myself. He is awfully sensitive and sentimental. I wish I could just die.
Please let me die. I am 70 years old, that is long enough for anyone to be around. It’s kind of criminal to go on a whole lot longer than that, especially as an USA white person.
Keeping alive means death to so many others really.

Typing 2022 on the page title. There is something absurd about that. I'm living too long.

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