posted on Aug, 16 2012 @ 04:54 PM
You can not know me.
And you certainly cannot know my sorrow.
I was the eater of lies and false hopes.
I believed the dreams of possibilities that never were.
No better could it have been had they provided an audience,
to laugh at the fool.
I grew, as a youth, believing in the magic of possibility.
Yet no one stepped up to mentor me through the facade.
I tried as best I could to be honorable, loyal, and righteous.
But I learned that honor is a liability, that loyalty breeds distrust,
I reached for any sign of hope being worthy of faith.
But instead I found that pleasing a gatekeeper was the only currency of value.
The disconnect nearly broke my will to live.
I gave and worked, I committed myself to the value of a well-crafted job.
But I found that those who offer rewards use no judgement and make no effort beyond a spreadsheet catering to the lowest common denominator.
They call it "good business."
I was prompted to display gratitude for the opportunity to work,
as if it was a charity to me.
No one can offer anything without some internal fear of being taken advantage of,
No one seems to be able to relate to the idea that the exchange between employee and employer should be considered an equal trade.
Those infatuated with being "the boss" force the equation to offer their existence more value than those who actually "do."
I am weary, I have no future option to change the paradigm, and talking about it is seen as 'wrong.'
My personal life is no concern to my employer, my life is secondary to such concerns.
Playing by the rules, I am bankcrupt, the struggle against every tragedy,
confined to resource I must nearly beg for, despite my being 'equal' to those who seem endlessly accomodated.
Unemployed? Homeless? Get a job, you bum!
People looking down at those less fortunate as if they had actually earned their protection from misfortune.
People like you tell me not to be angry, not to dismay, or despair.
But that is all that remains in me, as my life crumbles in disarray.
Since all others apparently never suffer, never encounter grief, never have "bad luck."
It must be something in me that is wrong.
I am consigned to want and need, I have to fear tomorrow.
Aside from platitudes about 'time' I must not show any wear or tear on my person, I must be "up" and "smiling" and "cheerful" for the audience
that damns me.
Systems are devised to be as repugnant as possible to make certain that no help comes my way, lest I be a useless eater and a burden on my fellow man.
An acceptor of 'charity' a shameful wastrel.
I offer no apology. This is what has happened, and is happening to me.
Why must I not despair? Why must I protect the illusion of the perfect world to my peers?
And what do I tell my children, Lao Ke?
They don't understand why we are poor and getting poorer.
They can't grasp why all of their peers do not hunger, want, or need?
Loved one's fault my bad attitude... because that is all they see, it is all they care to see...
it is (and has to be) my failing.