I am fed up with doing poor people’s shit. I mean, really. As an American, I can only put so much faith in bureaucracy. Small, apathetic minds and, as Earl would say, bovine expressions behind glass walls who only speak in angry tones run have overrun every local assistance office. This is how people treat you when you come into the office:
This really how your life looks after working all day, paying student loans, car insurance, storage bills and gas to get to work and the lady behind the counter looks at you like you’re a piece of shit:
You know what? From this moment on I am done with this shit.
There. I said it.
Now I gotta live it.
I’m manifesting abundance. Why jump through hoops for table scraps?
I was riding down the street in my hooptie which has a semi-flat, rear driver’s side tire when I decided to never apply for public assistance again ever. I just can’t. These people are ridiculous!
By these people, I don’t mean the worker bees behind the glass. No. I mean the governor and his cronies that pass these fucked up laws. A governor who was accused of MEDICAID FRAUD, and robbin’ little ol’ ladies, has the nerve too feel that poor people deserve to have their private lives be an open book for any government peion. Not a specific person like your case worker or someone who needs access to your records for some reason. Nope. Just any old person who works in that department.
I refuse to sign anything that gives the government carte blanche access to my life. If you’re asking me to sign, that means I have a choice. I choose no…and I want to know why that’s even a document. But, since my only option is to refuse and walk away without the help…that’s what I’m doing.
But…I feel good. In a way, I think that I’ve just set a new tone for my life. Now, selling my art is urgent.
By the way, if you see any art pieces on my page you like…they’re for sale.
acancersworld 