What is Hope?

I’m going through a crisis right now. And instead of moping around in a bunch of depressive funk in my empty brain, I’ve decided to put down on paper what I’m thinking. What I’m feeling. But first a little bit of backstory.

I sit here and attempt to enjoy this first cup of coffee this morning. It’s not too sweet— just the correct amount of bitterness, to match my emotional state. Honestly, I’m frustrated and depressed. I’ve talked myself out of walking into the kitchen and grabbing a steak knife several times already. Thank the Universe for hot water, and not wanting to make a mess that somebody else would have to inevitably need to clean up. I won’t do that to someone else.

I’m being sued. A few years ago, back when I first moved to Boston (involuntarily, I might add, courtesy of our US Government), I had settled into a routine. I was renting a bedroom for only $1,100 a month. It was nice. Only a fourteen minute walk to work (two minutes via bicycle, assuming I hit all green lights), and my landlord/friend was a kind person. I had the goal of home ownership, like many other people do. You know, follow that good ole American Dream, right? I decided that I needed to build up my non-existent credit. (One problem that nobody tells you, that if you’re “out of the system” for too long, you have to start all over again. Being trans, I had changed my name fully, and had completely transitioned into my new social role. I truly was starting life all over again. New town, new friends, new rules, new everything!

Anyway, I applied for some credit cards. I failed. Not one acceptance. But then I discovered the Secured Credit Card, and allocated $300 towards one from my bank. It’s not the best rate I’ve ever had, but it’s not horrid either. I’m making pretty good money at around $16/hour. With all the overtime that I’m able to work, I’m pulling in close to $2,600 net pay every month. I get an offer from Credit One for a $2,000 card. And I’m accepted. At 34% interest, I think it was? No problem. I’ve got the money coming in. Furthermore, I had recently met my fiancee and she was to move in with me, helping me to pay some of my rent (as it increased to $1,700 / month).

But, as fate would have it, this didn’t last. After about three months, one early morning as I was getting ready for work, my landlord/friend who had been drinking the night before with some company, got all in my face, and decided that I was no longer welcome. Money wasn’t the problem, in fact, I had an overbalance with her at the time. No, the problem was that I was “in the way”, despite walking on eggshells all the time.

It took about a month, but my fiancee and I found a place. Actually, I can’t take any credit here. She found our current residence. For only $1,650 a month, so we’re saving a little bit of money. But now I have to commute via the subway and bus— a trip that takes between an hour and two hours depending if I make all my connections without having to wait. There goes all my overtime.

To complicate matters, I’ve developed plantar fasciitius in not one foot, but both feet. To tolerate the pain, I ingest 3,200 mg of Ibuprofen and 3,000 mg of Tylenol every day. The pain never goes away. So, I also had to cut back to working only five days a week instead of the six I was working. So, since March 2023, I’ve been making about $1,900 a month (net). My fiancee has SSI, and until October of last year was bringing in just under $1,000. This worked. Barely.

Now comes the emotional download. My fiancee only receives $56 a month now. I’ve been looking for higher paying jobs, closer to home, and hopefully a desk job, so my feet can heal, but without luck. And now on top of all the bullshit going on politically in my homeland (the Land of the Free), I’m being sued by the aforementioned creditor. I learned that I could receive a judgement of a wage garnishment of up to 25%. That’s nearly $300 some-odd dollars a month that I absolutely can not afford. I’m now facing homelessness. Our job market is complete toast— or I’m totally unemployable, one of the two. I just discovered that my health insurance (by Massachusetts) has been suspended because I can’t afford to pay the $35 for it, so I’m going to be going on an emotional roller coaster over the next few weeks without my medications (I experienced this last year in February because I made just a little too much income and lost Mass Health— so I know what’s coming, and it’s not good.) I don’t have any other expenses that I can cut. We’ve barely got enough for my bus pass for May. I’m freaking out.

By June or July, I could be evicted. I’ll survive. I survived prison and the military. I can survive the street for a little while, at least until winter, then I’ll probably not make it. But my fiancee, she’s partially disabled, and has nowhere to go either. She also lacks the endurance that I have and has physical medical conditions that inhibit her movements. I’m truly worried about her.

We have a government that’s gone all out fascist, and I’m sick of seeing it everywhere I turn. The country’s on fire, and it seems that the powers that be are just letting the entire place burn down.

And I’m having an existential crisis about life itself right now. Is there an afterlife? Heaven? Hell? Aliens? Consequences?

No. Probably none of the above. It’s all made up. Stories told to us by the Elite to keep us, the workers, the slaves, pacified, to keep us working, behaving, obeying their commands. It’s to give us all hope that something better will come.

• You be a good person, you go to heaven, live a life of pure pleasure. Bullshit.

• You do wicked things, molest children, kill people. You go to hell. Do they? Really? Bullshit. Priests actions showed me this lie.

• Aliens are watching us, they’re going to come, to help us out of our mess? No. The Black Plague happened, and nobody came. World War one and two happened, no body came. Three will happen, and still nothing will happen. There is nobody coming to save us.

• Not even God himself will save people. Because God doesn’t exist. Not out there. He’s— it, is inside of our collective hearts, and we’re too goddamned divided to witness any of that power.

So, what’s the point of Life? It’s mostly just bitterness with some happiness sprinkled on top. Pandora’s Hope, is just the crusty bullshit stuck to the bottom of the jar— impossible to get out, that’s why it didn’t flee the Jar when Pandora opened it.

I feel a little better now, but I’m still frustrated that nothing I do will truly matter to anybody or anything. Maybe I’ve finally just reached the stage of burnout on life itself.