I don't know.
I'm the victim of a crime. The police don't care. The property manager doesn't care; she believes the lies that the people who work for her have told her. The lawyers for the property management don't care. Every social system has failed me. I'm being treated as if I am a crazy liar and a bad person.
Everyone who knows that the voyeurism isn't a false accusation is going to watch me move out of this apartment in a few days, having spent 5 months not telling anyone who could stop the eviction that I'm telling the truth.
There's nothing to stop my being victimized by voyeurism until someone rapes and kills me. I have lived in unendurable misery for 7 years, and the only thing that helped me to endure it was thinking that it would end, but it hasn't.
It's not as if my life weren't bad before that; most of it was.
The only thing that I tend to feel anymore when I think about being dead is relief. More and more, every year, that is the only emotion that I feel when I think about suicide.
What's happening to me is not an accident; it is deliberate abuse, for which I am blamed.
I'm sick of life. I'm sick of people.
Copyright L. Kochman, May 26, 2017 @ 2:24 a.m.
