You know, usually I come on for the TGS and do the thing. Tonight, I’m just not feeling it. instead, I’m gonna tell you a bit of a story. Right now, the feelings that I’m feeling are posted pretty much above. It’s probably a bit selfish, It might cost me authorship, but at the moment, I don’t really care. I feel that shitty.
IT BEGINS WITH A BROKEN AXLE
I live in a part of town where a car is an absolute necessity. I don’t live in the lap of luxury. I live where I live to be able to make college more accessible, and relatively close to work opportunities. I make about 200 bucks a week, but budget cuts have cut that to an inconsistent rate. Anyway. My car’s a piece of crap. Bad winters, resulting in sloppy over-salting of roadways leading to giant fucking potholes causing my crappy automobile to get even worse. Fast forward to last friday. My axle broke. My mechanic pointed out the cluster of rock salt wedged in the undercarriage of the car, and noted it was probably the apartment complex’s workers oversalting that did it. After talking to the owners of the complex, of course, they’re not going to do anything, and there’s probably nothing I can do to hold them responsible. So. I have to look for a car. Which I have been frantically for a week. Now i’m receiving calls from every dealership looking to sell me anything. STARTING at a whopping 310 dollars a month, which at that point, i’d simply be working to pay off a car. Other potential deals fell through, due to greed. The most recent was a co-worker pulling out of a deal on a car he was going to send to a junkyard. In my mind, something snapped. My entire friday was spent in depression. Scary thoughts flooded my mind, and they haven’t stopped as of this writing. The worst were romanticizing suicidal tendencies, because, in my heart of hearts, I believe that despite my best efforts to make something better, it will inevitably blow up in my face, and leave me worse off for trying. This has been the status quo so far. I just hadn’t realized how shitty my luck has been in those endeavors. The second thought was even scarier, as the old sensation of “Drugs will make you happy again, or at least normalize you” ran like a chill down my spine. I’ve been drinking a lot since yesterday. Sleeping too. That sobering, horrifying idea made sense to me. Thank god I have no way of getting my hands on anything at all. So, you might be asking, what is the point of this writing? Well, Like life itself, there is no real point. I’m crying out. I’m in pain. I don’t care who knows it anymore. And like a wounded animal, I feel inclined to share feelings with whomever is in the area. It’s the sudden realization that my life has amounted to less than the people who are constantly lorded as people of value for showing their big fat asses, or people who just can’t stop the verbal diarrhea from flowing out of their mouths. Spiteful, fucked up people who rule behind the scenes, and just do it for money and attention. That’s where rage comes in, and frustration. But enough about me.
Discuss this, or whatever you want.
Talk amongst yourselves