Things I can't say, or The intended audience of this post are among those least likely to read it
Content Warning
This post contains content which is not suitable for pretty much anybody. As the title suggests, if you're reading this, good odds you're not the intended audience.What do you want from me?
Do you want me to apologize for having enough money and good enough credit to fix my car when it breaks, that even if I didn't have the funds outright, at the very least I can count on getting a loan or a payment plan on good enough terms to tide me over until I do?
If so, then should I also be expected to apologize for having the spending habits of a self made millionaire despite having an income that puts me below the poverty level?
Which is to say, buying nearly zero luxuries, and focusing my expenditures on high-quality needs that outlive cheaper and lower quality items, saving money in the long run.
I'm sorry for living so far below my means that it's almost as unsustainable as those trying to live above it.
And also for eschewing the lower class culture which says to share my wealth even to the detriment of myself, because their culture teaches them that it's their job to lift their entire neighborhood out of poverty, when too many of those receiving the gifts spend it like a well that will never run dry. And I instead live by the teachings of first responders which say not to jump into the water to save someone who's drowning, because otherwise then they have to rescue two people instead of one.
I'm sorry for consistently being one of the hardest working individuals everywhere I've worked, even while consistently being one of the lowest paid. I'm sorry for not acting my wage. I'm sorry for working despite the pain in my body and my handicaps, popping painkillers like they're going out of style just so that I can keep on keeping on, and still have trouble walking as I leave the building at the end of my shift.
I'm sorry that I'm so good at chameleoning myself to work with just about anyone from any background in any industry. I'm sorry that I'm so much more comfortable putting on masks than taking them off that I don't even know who I am anymore underneath them all.
I'm sorry that the world treats me like just another disposable overweight balding white cis het dude.
Only three of those assumed demographics are correct.
I'm sorry that I'm 5 years deep in a 15-year plan to become voluntarily homeless with the intended goal to lower my cost of living even further.
It was originally intended to be a ten-year plan, but I was rather caught off guard by my fourth lay-off.
I'm sorry that I've been working since my fifteenth birthday, and despite sixteen different employers, four layoffs, four therapists, two mental health crises, two economic recessions, more health issues than I can count, a weekend in the psych ward, and a near brush with bankruptcy and homelessness, I still managed to establish a savings account in the last decade to rival the meagre amount of the 2025 US FPL for a family of four and escalate my credit limit from calamitous levels to north of 700.
If you count starting at no credit history when I was a teen, I actually did it twice.
And I'm sorry that you haven't been able to do the same.
I'm sorry that you chose to follow my social media account, and subject yourself to my life. I'm sorry that it took me forcibily revoking that follow and blocking you for you to locate some relief from all the privileges you accuse me of. I'm sorry that you didn't have the strength to do it on your own.
But if you want my money instead of these pithy apologies?
YOU. CAN. NOT. HAVE. IT.
I'm still not a strong enough swimmer to put myself at risk and try to save anyone who happens to be drowning. It's not my job to save you anyway, and even if it was my job to save others, you'd be so far down the list from the way you've assaulted me with your victimhood.
Good fucking riddance.
