in which jesus fucks the shit-eating prophet muhammed

A country in which a man can't live by the work of his own hands because there are none willing to pay for those hands to work is not a country in which I would like to live.

This is precisely my predicament. There are certain things which I would like to posses, those things only available through currency, that currency only available through work or theft. Since I'm not a thief (I've no intent to land in jail again) that means I must offer my work to another who will exchange currency for service. Only, in America, these days employers aren't keen on spending money--on anything. That includes buying new inventory, research and development, and employees, either full time or part time. And so I, an honest working American, who wants nothing more than to put currency in my pocket in exchange for my services, am unable to eek out a living, because in America, life is money, and money is life. He who controls the money controls the universe.

Money is the source of all problems. This is taught to all Americans across all walks of life. One cannot be happy, successful, popular, intelligent, or good-looking without money. It flows in everything, and nothing flows without it.

So here's the story: I am living out of my parents' basement in small town SD, trying to operate my own business after spending a month in jail, dropping out of school, spending a summer as an alcoholic, and finally a failed suicide attempt coupled with a broken jaw and two weeks spent in a behavioral health center. I wrecked my car while sleep driving a couple months ago, meaning I have no mode of transportation that I don't have to borrow, no money that isn't spent, no business coming through to me, and no job--more importantly, no opportunity for a job.

Which basically boils down to the fact that I have no currency. I can't buy a car without it, I can't rent a house or apartment without it, and I can't operate my business effectively without capital. I am stuck between a hard place, a rock, an immovable object, and an unstoppable force. For all intents and purposes, I am stuck, buried, effed in the a.

I'm on Zoloft. I'm also on Welbutrin. I'm not sure how to spell them, but what they spell for me is depression. I've had it, have it, will probably continue to have it, and must needs stay medicated to avoid the consequences. Sure, I'm seeing a therapist about every two weeks and am taking my meds regularly, but I am fucking miserable. Absolutely unhappy. I am thinking back and wishing that my attempt had been successful. I encumber everyone I know, everyone in my life, and that hurts me. I can't repay the debts that I've racked up, either to my parents or to medical staff. Breaking your jaw is expensive work, as it cracks teeth and requires extensive work as well as some serious surgery.

This is all too much stress for me. I can't sleep, I can't concentrate, I don't know how to keep on living in this situation without becoming drastic. I feel like a vagrant, a vagabond, a mooch, and a leech. I dislike who I am and what I've become.

And all this, all of this, can be solved with currency. That's the true American Spirit, the real American Dream. Forget white fences, a happy family; throw away owning a home and getting a pet; disregard a productive career and hobbies to pursue in leisure: it all comes down to money. Everything requires currency, and it is my inability, no, the refutation of my services, that binds me to this existence.

Maybe I am a little picky when it comes to employment, but I believe my ideals are not out of line: I want to help customers, not solicit them. I want to be honest, no sell my soul. I want to be productive, not bureaucratic. I want to be the best person I can be and simply make money. But that isn't possible in today's America.

More at another time. I can't focus anymore tonight.