I’m beginning to make some noise about it, and I’ve been making a little noise about it these past few months, but people dismiss my squeaking as just that: squeaking. I get the feeling people have grown so used to my complaints now, they automatically tune me out. Jaime is all that keeps me alive, because she needs me.
I’ve been too depressed to go to Meeting these past couple weeks. I feel wildly alone, dejected and purposeless. It gets worse every year; my life has ceased having any meaning or purpose.
I wish the Trust would take it’s head out of it’s ass and realize it needs to quit saving for tomorrow by making me live a life so bare bones now; and let me invest in my self, giving me a life worth living in the present.
I have dreams, ambitions. I want love; I want a family. I want to write. But, as I’ve said before, the Trust seems solely concerned with their future; which includes none oh those: for me, in the effing present.
Getting wealth has led me to a poorer quality of life, than I ever thought I would endure. I don’t write anymore, barring these occasional posts. Too depressed for that, too.
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