If you can read this, you’re a better man than me, because when I google this site I get a blank page, a warning, or some Japanese text.

I had malware removed but still. I have spent countless hours on the phone with real and robotic tech support. One guy yesterday told me his life story including his height and weight. You’ll be glad to know he bought a high-end Nikon camera for a fraction of its worth! Yay, him!

I have received lists of problems with this website, few of which make any sense to me as a civilian and not a coder.

I NEED A GOD DAMN CODER!

If you are a web developer or know a good one, please hook me up, to put me out of my misery. I can’t take any more frustration. Helplessness is bad for the human organs and nervous system. My cortisone is at a deadly level.

Hell is not other people, it is WordPress.

Oh good, I just uploaded this picture of me in the emergency room last month, admiring my socks, only to see that all my images have disappeared!

Wait, they’re back. Whew.

Please either help me or kill me, your choice.

All my devoted trolls are demanding that I go away and mourn. But the problem is, there’s no way to implement this. Mourning isn’t a thing you do in a black dress. Maybe they want me to spend all day at a cemetery. But it doesn’t matter where I am, it’s all the same barren place, a place I’d rather not be.

I am going through the motions, because that’s all I know how to do. I could take to my bed and never get up again. I’m not ruling that out. It just seems unfair to my family. I don’t know how to have a nervous breakdown or I’d gladly have one.

I don’t want to “recover” because mothers who bounce back after the death of a child seem despicable. How could anyone “move forward” after this? What would be the point?

I don’t know what to do besides cry or distract myself.   I’m still waiting for him to come back. When he does, I’ll try not to scold him for putting us through this. Meanwhile, I have to pick out a grave marker and then try to pay for it.

I started blogging as a way to express myself. Now, it’s a way to escape myself.

If one more moron whines about my “negativity” or complains that I “hate on” people, I’m going to lose my fucking temper. You can’t hate “on” people. But I might have to learn how.