Rabbit Rabbit 3-2

It’s been a year. A full year.

I’m still not done with that book. My parents still make weak attempts to contact me. My dad especially continues to be a disappointment. I even told him what she did to me and he doesn’t care. I’m about ready to walk away from him entirely.

Of course, I don’t think the police are willing to do anything since he’s “cleaned up his act” by quitting alcohol.

That’s the trouble. No one’s ever been willing to protect me. Not parents from bullies, not Dad from Mom, not boyfriends from parents or anyone else really. Except that time the child pornographer started issuing threats. But he was a child pornographer. That doesn’t count.

So here I am, wondering what I do with myself and feeling set back by the very people who should have propped me up and done right by me. I feel like I’ll be trapped forever in a tiny apartment, at a dead end job, with nothing to show for my life when I inevitably have enough of it.

I’m considering officially hopping on the Bernie train, since that looks like the best way out of this right now. Imagine what I could accomplish if I didn’t have to worry about things like health insurance (or any kind of insurance), or getting my bills paid. Ideally I’d want my job to be automated, freeing me up to do something I actually care about. Anything I actually care about. If we’re being really optimistic, I’m looking forward to a post-scarcity future where no one has to worry about money and we can all do whatever it is that makes us happy. I’d wax poetic about “the good old days but with indoor plumbing”, but see my last post. (And I’m still not sure how I feel about living in a commune. That sounds like a fast track to a cult if we’re not careful.)

And, in the mean time, maybe when the boomers die off we’ll have solved most of sexism, racism, homophobia, transphobia, etc.

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