Personal Grievance Blog Post

Hello Fellow nerd-weirdos. Another week, another blog post from that smelly nerd in the corner: the FAG-dude of Bakersfield! I have spent a lot of time reflecting on my time on this earth and at my various jobs, and I have come to realize how tortured I am as a person—not by the world, but by people. Everyone I have met or knew for an extended period has either backstabbed me, treated me like shit, or verbally assaulted me my entire whole life. Including my family, who psychologically messed me up, and I had to take every single psych med ever made. They were proud of doing it too! Do you know why? It’s because I don’t talk to them! Well, why don’t they talk to me? Then I can answer their questions, and we can have a conversation. How about that? Because if you are going to go through all that just to make me do all the work and effort to approach you—and it is you that wants to talk to me—why don’t you save everybody the trouble and heartache and just come up to me and ask? Anyway, I was at Starbucks the other day, and nobody was within 15 feet of me. Nobody really wanted to talk to me ever. They just like to stare at the freak of nature, the Unabomber in the corner plotting to firebomb the place. It is sad because I have taken care of Vietnam veterans for little to no pay, or have been the father figure to disabled kids, again for little to no pay. But when I go outside, I am just the weirdo Unabomber that you don’t want to sit next to. He is a pedophile and rapist, right? I find it sad that someone like me, a veteran caregiver of 25 years, is treated this way, but this is the way it is. Also, the women there intentionally hit on hella-old people in front of me and laugh at me just to make it a point to show what a pathetic loser of a man I am. Yet somehow, as I am afraid of these people, I must muster up the guts to talk to them. I am afraid of them!!! I am guessing they are gaslighting me to yell so they can point to me and say, “THAT’S THE BAD GUY!” Like how that woman at Walmart yelled at me for my food choices that I bought there. She looked like she had never exercised in her life, telling me how to eat and exercise. And when I got mad, everybody looked at me like I was the bad guy. At this point, I just hate people. I am not looking to converse at Starbucks with people like this who are crazy. I do not care. There’s this other guy that talks to me. Again, my experience with people is that they pretend to like you, and then when you let your guard down—BAM—the knife is stuck in your back, and they whisper, “gotcha!” as your lifeblood drips down your leg. Which is why I will never be his, or anyone’s, friend, or boyfriend or in the case of straight men I have met their “lady-boy-prostitute!” EVER! As I have gotten older…...I hate people! Till Next Time! MAHALO!