As you always said… I’m just scared to be left alone. And you were right, but in the end… I was scared to be left alone by you, no one else would have made a difference. And I still cry, and I still feel this agonizing depression knowing that no matter what the fuck I do I don’t have a damn thing worth living for. Everything has been stripped from me. All my work, all the pain, I have NOTHING to show. I am empty… their is nothing left of me. I called you my everything, and you had no fucking idea how true that was.
I don’t know if you will read this… I don’t know if you would even give a fuck enough to gain the thought to even check for this. Because I’m such a horrible fucking person. But god I hope you do.
“Look at the difference: In 1977 I bought a small house in Portland Oregon for $24,000. At the time I was earning $5 per hour working at a large auto parts store. I owned a 4 year old Chevy Nova that cost $1,500. Now, 36 years later that same job pays $8 an hour, that same house costs $185,000 and a 4 year old Chevy costs $10,000. Wages haven’t kept up with expenses at all. And, I should point out that that $5 an hour job in 1977 was union and included heath benefits.”—an anonymous online commenter on the current economy. (via han-nara)