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I'm still alive. Life is great. I love you all.

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I don't give a shit about a title.

I haven't blogged in a long time. It always feels pretentious to me when I type into this pale white box, believing that any of the words on the screen will mean anything at all beyond my own bullshit ideals.

Today is not a good day. This week is not a good week. This month...this year...none of it is any good at all.

Where to begin... Let's go back a year.

My girlfriend leaves. She dumps me for her ex-roommate, who lives in Montana...and leaves dog shit laying in the middle of his kitchen floor. This killed me. It destroyed whatever remained of my already scarred and calloused heart. It took 31 years to find someone I felt I could spend forever with, and it took her only a year and a half to crush it completely, thrown away in a dumpster with the other trash.

Because the life we were building was based around two incomes, this made paying bills much more difficult. I was tied up in a lease already, and leaving would've cost too much. I made her pay her rent until the end of the lease. Her parents made her as well (because they took my side...of course, why wouldn't they take the side of a good guy that got dumped by a cheating cunt?). She did...until the last month.

I kept trying to get her to wire the money to me each month. It was easier and far more reliable than mailing a check or money order to the apartment complex. She wanted to be difficult about it. That's no fucking surprise. She wouldn't even take the time to properly check her A1C every goddamn day (I had to get onto her about it regularly). Why the fuck would she be able to wrap her head around the idea of wiring money? Man, I picked a winner, didn't I?

The money order she sent on the last month was late...and also sent back to her... This led to a downward spiral. I had to use my car payment for that month in order to pay the rent, and she would get the money back to me. That wouldn't happen for a little while (a couple of months). She had to get a refund on the money order, and then of course, excuses came up with her. I didn't budge. She finally got the money to me.

It was already too late. I had to borrow $400 from my parents to help cover some stuff, and I had to start taking some payday advances from my boss (getting my check early, not a loan or anything necessarily). This threw my budget completely out of whack.

I called my car payment company multiple times. They wouldn't budge on anything. Finally, they told me that I could have my payment date changed once I'm caught up on my car payments, and that the payment for the month would be pushed to the new date on the next month. For example:

Make payment on February 27th

Payment due on March 27th

Call before March 27th to have payment moved to April 11th

11th of each month is new payment, and I've been given a two week gap to catch up on everything

It was all working to plan. I was doing it. I was getting back up, recovering from this depression I was falling into. I had become lethargic, like nothing I did was going to get me ahead in life. I was destined to be broke, playing catch up, and never getting anywhere.

I get caught up...

...and then April rent happens.

I go to the same corner store I've went to for the last six years to get money orders. I get my money order for rent. I take it to the front office, drop it off, and think nothing of always. Five days later, I get a call saying that the money order was being denied by the apartment complex's bank because it was "either fraudulent or printed on expired paper."


I call the store I got it from. They sound confused as hell. Expired paper? I call the apartment complex again. They have never heard of something like this happening. They call their bank, try to find out more. I call Western Union.

Their bank says that they can't cash the money order. Western Union says that the money order was cashed already.

Someone is lying...or fucking stupid...or both. I don't know. Western Union tells me to send in for a money order refund, so I do just that. It will take thirty days to get the money order refunded. The apartment complex has no problem with holding off from evicting me for thirty days while the refund is processed. I use my car payment money plus some extra money in order to just pay the rent (plus the bank's checking fee, the fucking bastards). I don't want that hanging over my head. What IS hanging over my head now, my car payments. Rearing their ugly head all over again, the debt keeps creeping up on me like an infection that won't go way. However, when I get the refund on the money order, everything will be fine again. That'll cover the car payment I missed plus the next car payment. It all works out...

...until I call today to find out why I haven't received my money order refund.

They tell me they aren't sending it.

The money order was cashed. They can't refund it.

It's at this moment that I go into one of the most rage-induced tirades I've ever spouted to someone at a phone. I just made someone's day absolutely fucking terrible, and honestly, I don't even give a flying fuck. I just don't care anymore. I let it all loose, every single frustration with this whole situation and how it is financially "bending me over the hood of a Gremlin while your company shoves a pineapple up my ass and asks if I want KY, blood, or cum as my lube."

It wasn't pretty.

I called my family lawyer to see if there was anything I could do about this money order situation. He says "no."


There's nothing that can be done apparently, and even if he could do something, "it would cost more in court fees and other costs than what the money order was worth, and the chances of winning when their records show the money order as being cashed? Just let it go and cut your losses."

That man is no longer my family lawyer, by the way.

Meanwhile, all of this is happening...after I have now been a non-smoker for almost two months. That's right: no nicotine for two months, and I'm ready to light an entire town on fire.

Why am I dispensing this information? Because I have no one else to talk to. My parents will just give me the same answer as they do for everything: "find God." My brother has too many of his own problems that he can't help someone else with theirs. My friends...or the people that will soon no longer be my friends...could give a shit less about my overall existence, let alone whether I have problems. None of them perceive any of my issues as ever "actually being issues" and that I just over-dramatize the situations.

I'm out $700. That's not over-dramatized. That's fucked up, and it is in turn fucking up my life.

So I'm trusting in this pale white box that I get to fill with text. I'm sharing this with you so you can know that, whatever difficulty in your life, there is someone else who is just as down, just as pissed, and just as ready for the extinction of the human race as you are.