I'm writing to you for what may be the last time for quite a while. While I don't intend this to be a long-drawn, dramatic sob-story,
I owe it to you, as my "friends" that you hear what's up straight from the horses' mouth..
Lately, things in my life have been shit, to be short. You all are my only social contacts, and mostly, my only friends, outside of my 'real-life' friend, who's autistic. Not much for intelligent company.
It's been almost 3 months since my car's been dead, and I've been in the lurch ever since. I knew this was coming, and still, I couldn't do anything about it, but, now that it's soon to reach its climax, you can hear about it.
I'm a terrible excuse for a human. I have no desire/ability to cope and adapt to my fellow human beings in any sort of fashion short of text, and as you all can clearly see, I don't come off very amicable there, either.
I've been contemplating 'voting myself off the island' for quite some time now, and after what's happened tonight, I've wanted to do it more, only to get to the edge and puss out. I'm too miserable to even jump.
What's brought me here started with my car, escalated with my love life, which is now in shambles, and again, mostly my fault. I can't seem to hold any kind of relationship with a person, plutonic or otherwise, for any length of time, and it's mostly one-sided, and I'm blind to what's really going on. I fell in love, fucked it up, and now I'm hurt.
Next, which is the clincher, is my career. As some of you know, I'm a receptionist at a local mortgage company, which is run by close friends, almost considered relatives. I'm kept on only as a favor to my mother, who is integral to the survival of the business. Although, what I'm about to explain isn't going to exactly ensure a long-lasting career...
There's this woman at work. I haven't slept with her, I haven't done anything illicit with her, short of planning my mother's murder, or smoking some weed with her. She however, has a crack habit. I knew this when she started working with us last summer, and by my calling her out on it, is how we became good friends. Most of you would find that wrong, and would stay away from that person. I don't have friends, so I take whatever comes along that's friendly. She's nice enough, has an okay work record, and good stories and experiences, however, she still has a crack habit.
Now, tying this into everything else, I've been trying to use her crack connections to score me a cheap handgun to blow my miserable head off. No joke, I don't really want to see next year. My future is not bright, and I've made some really shitty choices so far. There is no hope for anything stellar, let alone a new legacy.
...moving on, you can't trust a crack addict...
I come home this evening, after being out in the afternoon having an early dinner, a meeting, and some brews wtih a friend. My mother tells me that this lady's got the office all stirred up about me asking her to help buy a gun, so we can shoot my mother. (Her plan, she was hoping for a promotion, she's also gathering evidence that my mother has been harassing her at work. Lawsuit time. ) It turns out, she was so 'upset' over this, that she decided to sit down with my manager, our underwriter, and our processor to discuss me and 'my plans'. I assume tomorrow morning I won't have a job. That leaves me carless, loveless, lonely, and jobless.
I'm letting you all know now why I'm checking out:
I plan to beat this near fifty-year-old-moneygrubbing-crackwhore-ing-snitch within an inch of her life.
Only an inch, as she's barren, and has an adopted child who loves her dearly, and for some reason depends on her.
Feel free to call Gerald Horne, or whoever the KC prosecutor is, as this will be occuring in Federal Way.
I have no regrets, no qualms, and no second thoughts about this, even if I had a seven day waiting period. (hmm.. like buying the gun legally? )
This is not the first time a partner in crime has become a snitch, but this is certainly the first time I'm finally taking action about it. I've sat back and been too forgiving, it seems. I'm tired of forgiving people, when I never recieve forgiveness, and certainly no benefits from my social interactions.
So I've hit absolute rock bottom, and I can't even end my miserable existence because I'm too scared.
I apologize to any of you whom I've given advice to. You've asked the wrong man. Michael, this goes out to you. I hope all is well with you, though. This means I won't be checking my gmail, either.
Tommorow, after I collect my paycheck and get the cuffs off, I'm going to try to voluntarily admit myself to Western State. Those of you familiar with WA know what I'm talking about. The rest of you should just assume it's a mental hospital.
I'm not quite sure what will happen, with anything, right now. I'd love to find a way to auction off my cars to you all, in the pieces that they are.. but they're still good! I may have to sell them anyhow, to cover whatever costs I incur again, as I face the consequences of my years of repressed anger.
I'm sorry, to all of you.
You've been good people, good company, and certainly good teachers.
I'll miss you.
Goodbye for now.

..signing off.