Why Am I Here, Really?

It's been a couple months now since I lost Finesse. Seven months since Style. I find myself just going through the motions. I work, get home, dawdle, sleep, wake, dawdle, sleep, repeat. Even though I have what many would presume to be a happy life, as well as a nice home and a lovely wife, I find that I am stagnating. I have given up on music. I no longer play any musical instrument. It doesn't being my joy anymore. I have a closet full of guitars that I am preparing to sell off. I just don't have the time or motivation anymore to do a band thing. I've turned down a few gigs so far this year and do not anticipate ever returning to any level of competence on any instrument I have ever previously mastered. It's not something I even want to do.

When Style and Finesse were here I had so much to look forward to. They were the very solidifying markers of my existence and also represented a very happy point in my life. Now that they are gone, I feel empty and worthless. Even more worthless than I have felt at any time in the past. I exist to work like a dog to earn money to pay bills which never end. A vicious cycle of life but not life. Is there anything that brings me happiness anymore? Some of the people in my life, close family, my wife, I guess.

What do intend to do? I intend to keep going until I can't. I have had plenty of instances where I've made a split-second life or death decision, always choosing life. Instinct over intent? Or instinct as unconscious intent? I'm still here. But why am I here, Really?

Committing Suicide

I will most likely be dead before the end of 2121. I have a tentative plan in place already. I have a few loose ends to tie up on the Homefront. I need to make an ironclad will so that the government gets nothing, and my family gets all. I need to be sure that my pets live out their full lives in comfort. Once I have those assurances, then I am free to kill myself.
I am not on any kind of psychoactive meds. I am not nutso. I am not acting on an impulse. This is something that I have thought through and through, down to the exact method of my own suicide; that, too, is foolproof, and does not involve blood, severe injury or paralysis, loud noises, or alligators. In this life, I have done most everything that I have ever wanted, and achieved most everything I have set myself to.
But there comes a time when there is really nothing more, and life has become a boring drek. Even the sunrises and sunsets all seem to blend together into a meaningless haze. I would like to have full control over how I end it. And I shall.
This isn't so much a fuck everyone else kind of thing anymore. It's more of a fulfillment of going out on top, with all my faculties intact, at a time of my own choosing. The fuck everybody else part has more to do with people's knee-jerk reactions to this kind of talk. Most always its along the lines of someone needing mental health realignment. Trust me, I have no need for that. I can think quite clearly from day to day. And this is the right path for me to take.

The End Of Music

It's been nearly five months since I picked up a guitar. I played one song back in December for my family. Beyond that, nothing. I'm pretty much done. There is one show left this July for which I don't really care. I wish I had been smart and not agreed to do it. I dread it horribly. I was bamboozled into doing it by Andy, the rhythm guitar player for the now extinct Yesterday's Child. That will never happen again. Any music I do will be strictly to please myself, as it should be.