Missing Something

Maybe someone can give me some wise, sage answers to this.

Why am I here? What's the point?
It seems like there must be some mistake.

I was the smart, determined, hard-working girl. People had great expectations of me. More importantly, I had great expectations of me. Because I knew that together, these three things would get me as far as I wanted them to, and all the uncertainty and instability of my youth would be behind me after a few years of sacrificing, of going to school and or skipping my way up the income ladder. My life would be in MY control, to make what I wanted of it. And all I really wanted was to be comfortable and secure. No fancy designer clothes or bags or shoes for me. Just to have a nice reliable car, pay my bills on time, have good credit, do some fun things every now and then, get my hair done periodically, and maybe a mani-pedi occasionally.
That was supposed to be my life. Be a good person. Try hard. Succeed.
I'm sure of it.
It would have been enough, although I'd always hoped I could do something fantastic, that would have been okay even if I didn't.

Instead, here I am with my life in a shambles, and there doesn't seem to be anything I can do about it. I can't be hard-working anymore, because either I don't last long enough at it, and if I keep trying, I get sicker. Determination has mostly kept me trying to be hard-working,or find a smart way out of it, but now it's just barely keeping me from giving up. Smart? What good is it to be able to think of things you could do if you can't do actually do them? Not that I feel very smart most of the time anyhow, since Cognitive Dysfunction drives me half insane just getting through most days, doesn't make me look very smart, or act very smart, so what's the use anymore of having an above average IQ? (If I even do anymore!)

I'm stuck with some weird illness or illnesses no one can quite seem to make up their minds about, and I can hardly believe this is really how my life is turning out.
I feel like I'm on an elevator that's malfunctioned and it starts dropping, but every now and then it slows down to a stop and it seems like I'm going to be able to get off, but as soon as the doors crack and I've dared to believe everything might be okay, it starts dropping again, and you have to get over that sick feeling in your stomach all over again. I mostly don't move anymore, but when the doors get really wide, I'm tempted to make a run for it, and down it goes again...cruel.

It's enough to make you insane, I tell you.
Ah, but it does seem to help, this, talking to everyone, or perhaps no one. I think I have one of those sardonic senses of humor. I've often been told not to be so cynical, but I'm really not clear on how cynicism is as bad a thing as some make it out to be. I do sometimes get the feeling I'm creating a smaller cage within the one I'm currently trapped in though. But there's really not much to distract me.

It's just, stuff like this is only supposed to happen to TV, right? And then if the person is courageous and perseveres they're always rewarded with a happy ending, right? Except the story wouldn't be worth watching if it didn't happen in real life. And real life doesn't always have happy endings. They just don't show that on TV because then no one would watch, so people think you're awful for pointing out that there is no happy ending in sight...because they're convinced from all that darned TV
that there is one and you're just not seeing it, lol.

This whole being sick and life falling apart and nothing you can do about it, well, I think it just makes me plain un-American. Must be doing something wrong if you can't find the American Dream in America, no?

Okay, now I'm almost starting to amuse myself.
The nighttime meds seem to be kicking in. I feel much less angst-ridden now.