As the title states, this will in all foreseeable likelihood be the one and only time I will use this journal system. Ironically it's to say goodbye, the one drama associated with the furry fandom I detest the most.

I'm not trying to make a big deal out of it, I simply want to leave a note for anyone who happens to read this afterwards, and for anyone who might care at the moment.

So I guess I should begin from the beginning. I would suppose this is more of a way to get this off my mind, more so than a notice.

For everyone who doesn't know, my real name is Sam, 39, male, and live in Florida.

I have no family, or rather the only family members I do have left I have either alienated, or have alienated me.

My father was a heavy drinker, and would come home drunk often. Almost equally as often he would beat my mother. I never have forgiven myself for doing nothing to stop him. He went out drinking one night and didn't come back. I wouldn't see him until much later in my life, and when I did I made it clear I didn't want anything to do with him.

I broke what was left of him when I told him that, and I suppose I broke something in me as well. Yeah, he was a terrible father, abusive actually, but he's still my father. I regret more than ever for not accepting him. He isn't dead, yet. I'll likely be dead before him, but it's too late to apologize, he wouldn't remember me now, he's too far beyond that point. And for that same reason going back to him would make it more painful to see him that way. I hated him, and I loved him; he wasn't always drunk, he had a softer side.

I don't have any friends in real life. I've been so much a recluse that anyone trying to befriend me would have to have a serious reason for wanting to do so, I'm not the friendly type. Not in the least.

I have worked and continue to at the writing of this journal at a Circuit City. I stand around on the floor and sell things. Not a very exciting job, not very fun, and not exactly the highest paying job in the world. In fact, I rather hate my job and my "coworkers." All the customers either know nothing, know a little and think they know everything, or know everything and cannot be wrong.

Over the years I have dealt with customers who will yell at me because I wouldn't sell them a "picture card" and that I kept insisting they needed a "video card." I've dealt with the customers who think that all the computer is is the CRT monitor. I've seen customers come in with an exact list of what they want, I tell them what they're asking for won't work, only to be scoffed at. Then they would come back to return what I had told them was wrong.

But worst of all, are my coworkers. Nearly all of them are high-schoolers or recent graduates. Believe me, I have nothing against the youthful, but my coworkers are clearly of a class all their own.

They tell me that I am to old to work in with computers, much less sell them. Apparently they forget that the advent of the PC was in my youth, perhaps they just want a better paying job, but most likely of all, is that they simply think that the older a person is, the more inept they are. Ironic whenever they come to me for help ringing up something for a customer.

To all those that I have met online, you really are more friend to me than most anyone on the outside world has ever been. Yes, I know this sounds incredibly cheesy, and quite sad that I in fact "have no life."

It has been fun, and I hope it will continue to be, up to the bitter end.

As some of you might have guessed, based on the morose tone of this journal, and my avatar. I smoke, a lot, and I started young.

I couldn't even tell you how many packs I smoke in a given day anymore. If I can afford it, I'm going to smoke it. Simple as that.

So it should come as no surprise that I was bound to end up with COPD (Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease; pretty much emphysema). In fact, after the doctor gave me my time to live, I tried to stop smoking, I've gotten pretty close actually.

But that is irrelevant as of now. A more recent problem has made itself apparent. A brain tumor. Lung cancer should too be expected from smoking, and actually lung cancer is the most common type of cancer to metastasis (move to another organ). Not surprisingly, I have been told, the most common organ for it to metastasize to is the brain.

Unfortunately, and fortunately, depending on how you look at it, the tumor is located such that the only surgery that could remove it is risky and not covered by my insurance, but also such that outward symptoms of a tumor are minimal (I haven't had any yet).

So now my time is drawn shorter than that of my COPD, and I have refused chemo and radio therapy. Why? Because at best it would add a few miserable months to my pathetic life, not what I want.

And I am sure about one thing, my life has been a waste. I have accomplished nothing in this life, and I doubt I will before I kick the bucket. Worst of all, now, after so many years of taking comfort in the fact that I knew I would die from my own actions, I am afraid. For the first time in my life I don't want to die, but I know I will regardless of how I feel.

At best, I have six months, at worst I have six seconds. There is no way to tell really, so I just suppose I have to get this all out. Before it is too late.

tl;dr: I am dead/dying of cancer.