I typed in “my life sucks” into a search engine and I wound up here, and read the bit on “people who say…” and I felt… well, yeah, if optimistically, one could find another’s life and measure ones to it and say yeah, my life really doesn’t suck thaat bad…
However, I must contest, for I have lived a rather ruinous life thus far, if I may relate it, I hope it doesn’t go against the rules but this really needs to be expressed, especially the controversial nature of how we, as a people, govern ourselves, hopefully by the end of my ‘story’, you may begin to understand that our blanket laws and other means to unburdon ourselves with the responsibilities of social interaction, has a loong long way to go…
Many moons ago I was brought into this world by an upwardly mobile couple, lived a pleasant life, christmas with a hired santa knocking at the door, an antique automobile in the garage, and a shiny new one on the street, food on the table, and happiness for all. But then disaster struck, war broke out uncles were lost, my mother died from cancer et-cetera, after two horrid excursions with nannies, the state decided that single parenting wasn’t a workable function for a father, of whom shortly dies after loosing his children.
off to an orphanage, I won’t bore you with the atrocities experienced there, but suffice it to say it was a catholic orphanage, and was ironically hit by a lightening bolt, (perhaps I could thrill you with the antics of fourty 5 year olds running amok, pulling teeth for the tooth fairy, nun’s discipline rulers and tennis rackets. the promise of theatre only to be renigged, but returned after all had teared themselves to sleep. group punishments in the form of a spoonful of coffee administered one at a time… but tripe really, an annoyance.) A new orphanage, born out of another religious cult set with the times of peace and love, communal, save for the fact that a six year old must board with those twice and even thrice his age, the closest one in age being twelve. not a problem, yet, for the responsibility of having to watch that little runt, who pissed the bed and cried all the time, a baby really, nothing for the active adolescent to be saddled with. Of course I took the first chance out, much to my chagrin, to a most unholy of places, a real economic mess, anyone who’s from a mining town will know how bad this can be, but the stuff mined wasn’t as pleasant as coal or iron ore, but muck and toxin were the fare, people relishing their nights and weekends of alchohol infused fun… instantly my status was elevated to the eldest child, unfortunately, this bestowed honor was anything but… more like the hitting post, the scourge, the very reason what is wrong in this town, my hair dyed to look the same my eyes blackened for their comely appearance… yet I persevered, for the religion spoke of toils and hard earned fortunes…(again, i could iterate many of escapades and notorious situations to inflate the dispair i felt, but, the point should suffice, I expressed my discomfort to the caseworker assigned to talk to me monthly, I took my broken arm to her as proof of the turmoil i was going through, and I received a nerf football… a family friend gave a dog as a present, I becamre the dog’s provider, and poop picker, he became my friend and protector, only once though, for afterwards, having bit the hand coming to redden my face, and sending me into the next week, it became my duty, at eight years of age to hold his collar while a bullet entered his skull… another year of reckless abandon…
from this I was given reprise, a chance to perform, a new life, but alas, I was psychologically ruined, and could not express the love that my appearance spoke of, for people instantly fell in love with that cute little boy who had such a hard life… A new school every few months, a new bully to fight off…(eventually I got very good at anti-bully tactics, and was awarded the esteemed status of troubled youth.) this hard won status caught the eye of a philantropist, and the fun really began… almost clockwork orange stuff psychological babble and how I should give society a chance, but this worked as good as words often do, and I was assualted by the brigandry of yet another school and new ‘friends’ for whom I was to perform my martial skills and really get into serious problems, thus the cycle begins, for every new environ i find myself in, I become the focus of the local screwball, and would have to rely on myself for defence… yet time marched on, and much to my dismay, I became a man, i entered the service to fight for my country, and hopefully gain a post in society that is respected and perhaps welcomed… doomed to failure I met each and every nut possible and was defeated again and again, to the point of dismissal for mental reasons(yet the government saw to it, that since they were not responsible I cannot receive benefits) Homeless no friends nor family I relied upon the succor of those looking to the needs of young men on the streets, thus irrestibly drawn to the dregs of soceity, and eventually into the arms of the law. but wait, this is no tale of law breaking and fisticuffs, I landed into a family where the adults were addicts and paranoid to the most unbelievable heighths, this paranoia centered upon me and why I was not ibueing of their cashe of intoxicants, a fight ensued, guns were drawn, and I felt my life slipping away…
well, when the dust settled I found myself in a cell not with the average accusations but with some horrid crime, a crime so obscene i care not to relate, but since my life sucks so bad I shall… imagine my suprise when I was brought into a room with upholders of the law beaten and accused of child molestation, and the only way to get it to stop was… but you probably don’t care, but I do, i spent over a year incarcerated and found out that I had public defence only after I sought relief for the right to speedy trial, for after a year the remedy is release, i found myself in the custody of a kindly old judge who suggested that a sentence of two years to a maximum of ten would keep me out of trouble, in that it would serve as a means to help me build a life out of the ruin I found myself in, I agreed for it sounded very noble, and society would help repair the damage… what crap… the judge dies of old age and I end up serving the maximum sentence for a crime that would surely be a death sentence just waiting to happen while in gaol.
fortunately I surived with only minimal loss, I cannot use one hand for it is missing several appendages, officially a shop accident, unofficially, my inate sense of self defence against a mob saved my life costing me the use of one hand, lucky i suppose, but sure isn’t something I would like to do on purpose, especially when the crime accused of didn’t even take place, and was merely used as a defence for having shot someone by the ‘insert expletitive’ who almost cost me my life.
Now, I live with those who’d have me, for only a short time, for I must, because of social convention, alert the local authorities of my presence, or suffer the consequences, this notification renders me unemployable, and homeless, what I can scrounge because of my contenance, I spend perhaps unwisely on things like the internet, and food, no drink, for drink is a luxury I can ill afford, since my picture is plastered everywhere, and the chance that I am without reason, and coordination could very well spell disaster.
I realize this post is rather bland but the fact that I have been cast into the shadows, I find it really hard to be happy, and to say that my life sucks is putting it lightly.
Whether happiness is material or immaterial is up to the individual. It’s not for us to suggest all people can meditate their way to happiness. The best most people can do is to acknowledge they are not truly happy and work towards fixing this.
