Too Many People

As I mentioned previously, I'm working on an eBook, so I don't have much time for this, but I feel it's time I express myself again.  I've endured plenty of onslaughts at work.  As a cashier in a store, I feel as though I've had to deal with wave upon wave of zombie shoppers.  Today was certainly one of those days: just one person after another.  People lining up to buy stuff.  An endless stream of people.  I've written it before; I have no kids, but I have to deal with the result of too many people.  I have to be bombarded with them over and over again. 
Some might think I should be grateful.  Without all those customers, I wouldn't have a job.  Without all those customers, I might have chugged antifreeze or jumped or hanged myself by now.  According to my beliefs, death is a nice long slumber.  I'm not really suicidal.  It occurred to me, what if antidepressants are just good enough to keep people from killing themselves?  They're still living shitty lives that they hate; they just don't want to kill themselves as much as they used to.  It's a scary thought.  I imagine the so-called elite, the super rich, would want it that way.  They don't want the people who scrub their toilets to die, because they certainly don't want to do it.
That's part of the reason why I continue here.  If I kill myself, there will be some sort of an explanation left behind.  Maybe it will help people understand depression and suicide.
I work with someone who has autism.  Today, a customer was wearing some sort of a run to stop autism shirt.  It made me think-if you don't want your kid to get autism, then how about not bringing him or her into a world where autism exists?
Money and status aren't the most important things.  Animals are more important, and so is being someone who can truly say that they have brought neither people nor animals into this brutal world.
Pregnant women are disgusting to me.  The men who got them pregnant are equally disgusting.  I certainly don't think pregnant women deserve any special treatment.  They are bringing an innocent baby into a fucked-up, violent world of pain and despair.     

The Wound that Never Heals

She probably doesn't have a father either.  Mama groundhogs usually chase them away.

I don't have a father.  He isn't dead (as far as I know).  He just doesn't give a damn about me.  I'm 45, and I haven't heard from him since I was a teen.  I am the result of a teen pregnancy.  It happened in 1968, so a legal abortion wasn't an option.  My parents got married.  My father left my mother and me when I was 2 years old.  I didn't see him many times at all after that.  My mother got custody.  I think he had no interest in seeing me.  I was just a mistake he made when he was young.  I believe my Nana, his mother, tried to get us together, but it didn't happen very often.  I have no idea where he lives, what he does, or what his phone number is.
When I was younger, I felt sorry for myself for not having a father.  I did  some complaining about it.  I came to realize nobody likes a whiner.  So I stopped complaining, which solved nothing.  Something we learn to not be is a bitcher, whiner, or a complainer.  No one wants to be called one of those things.  But this leads to more suffering.  People pretending that life is wonderful, that it isn't hard and doesn't suck, enables others to continue the madness by bringing more and more people into the world.  We're taught to not complain.  So many people are miserable, but they keep it to themselves.  It's important for me to be real.  I'll say or write what I want to about not having a father, and if someone wants to call me a whiner or a complainer, I'll deal with them how I see fit.   
Not having a father is the wound that never heals.  I'm constantly reminded that many people have had great fathers who have helped them all their lives.  That is definitely not my experience.  I actively avoid books and movies that deal with father/son relationships.  I try to forget (as much as I can) that people have decent fathers.  I watched Silver Linings Playbook yesterday.  I really enjoyed it.  Regardless, it took me out of the movie somewhat to see that the main character still had his father in is life, even though he was a grown man.
I hate when Father's Day comes around.  You can't watch TV without being reminded of it.  The only thing my father deserves for Father's Day is poop in a box.
I've never brought someone into this world, and I'm proud of that.  So many, animals and humans, have suffered in this brutal world.  Not wanting to be like my parents, I'm terrified of sex.  I'm afraid of getting a woman pregnant.  This is probably why I didn't have sex from the ages of 27-44.  And when I had sex last year, it wasn't worth it; it sucked.