I wonder what in the world would bring anyone to even read this blog. I'm mostly doing this just to document things. I want there to be some evidence that I once existed. No, I'm not some conspiracy freak convinced that there's some secret agency out to erase me from existence. I just think that in this world we're all so caught up in ourselves that we don't notice those around us. Those that are different, or poor, or mentally ill, or all of the above, make people uncomfortable. I make people uncomfortable because I am poor and I have bipolar disorder. I live with my mother because she is on disability and between the two of us we still can't afford a decent place. The neighbors all whisper about us and talk behind our backs because the house isn't kept up as nicely as they would like. But not one of them will offer to help. Not one of the men on the street will ask if they can help rake the leaves or cut the grass or maybe trim a bush.
Why haven't I asked for help, you ask? Because if I go to their door, they won't answer it. If I approach them to talk to them, they make an excuse and run in the house or jump in their car and drive away. You can't imagine how much it hurts to be treated like that. Like you're nothing but garbage.
I would love to be able to cut the grass, trim the trees, paint the house and keep the place cleaned up. I try but I'm just one person with my own physical disability. I can't afford to hire someone when I can barely afford food (and we only eat one meal a day) and can't afford to go to the doctor or get medication at all.
I've finally figured it out though. Why people are that way. They lead such miserable lives that they have to look down on people like me so they can feel better about themselves. So if you're feeling sorry for me, don't. Save your pity for those that look down on us; they're the ones that really need it.
