Arnie
Active Member
- Joined
- Nov 19, 2016
- Sythe Gold
- 125
- Messages
- 125
- Age
- 36
First of all, i'm venezuelan, and i am still living here. With all those endless problems you can see in the news.
This have been happening too ofteen since 2016
I just stop and look at me and what i am doing and... get so disappointed of myself.
When i was little, i used to enjoy studying. I remember telling my parents i was ment to be a scientist or an historian. I was a lonely child, but i didn't care because i was too busy, studying so I could do big and interesting things when i grew up. But i grew up and life showed me that dreams are really hard to achieve; that this world just sucks.
I signed for law school. I took differents jobs, since my dad decided he wasn't paying my college. It worked for a while, but the economy started to become ... odd. Prices started to rise so quickly. The government set up a hard currency control and the local currency started losing its value. I left college because i had to work [No job = No money = No college/No food]
Later, i signed in a tech school, because i didn't wanted to waste my time doing nothing. I didn't lasted; i lost my job because the lady boss decided i wasn't her kind of people [i was too smart and simple, aparently. She like those gossip, silly girls who wasted the time with make up and mirrors].
I took part time jobs and used my savings to get a new laptop, because i knew the raising inflation was going to eat my money.
Then, 2013 happened. Hugo Chavez passed away and then, my first time voting in a presidential election. The chance to get rid of a terrible government. I was excited, like everyone else at home. We stayed at my grandma's house, all together, waiting for the results.
That nigth, a men came to our front door. He was carrying a gun, and other three armoured guys was hidden in the bushes.
They locked us in a bedroom. I was frozen, i was afraid my baby niece started to cry and make them nervous and more dangerous. They took my phone, my laptop, my backpack with my clothes; aimed to me with a gun, since they wanted the boxes of my devices. I just watched how they took everything they could from my grandma's house. We remanied kidnaped inside our own house for two hours.
I couldn't even cry my frustration when they left; my sister was having a attack, high blood presure. Some one was to take care of the baby.
That nigth, those mens... That was the bussiness card of Nicolas Maduro and his horrible government.
One month later, i was feeling... afraid of living. I didn't wanted to step a foot out of my house. I decided, the best treatment for my fears was stop thinking, get me so tired i didn't have the time to see how terrible was being me. I signed for a year of military service in a paratrooper unit.
It was like turn back to been a teenager. All those "new young adults" were around 18-20 years, and since i look younger than i really am, they thought i was the same age. I started to beleive that too.
I injured my leg, it's a lesion that will be with me for ever. So, I never became a paratrooper.
From May2013 to May2014 i did nothing but work.
When my service year came to its end, the economy was even worst; but i was feeling better, with new strengths, ready to start living again. I got part time jobs and did as much as i could to save money for a new attept to study. But i failed.
The food shortage started to kick my stomach. I had to start waiting in long lines to buy food; or get the food overpriced from smugglers.
At the end of 2015 my brother came home, he announced his girlfriend was expecting and now she was living with us. I wasn't happy at all. There wasn't a decent income to feed everyone, and a pregnant woman have special needs.
My fears was founded; the first months of 2016 were like hell. No matter how much my brother and i worked, there was never enough. When the mangos were in season i started carrying empty bags in my pockets, so i could pick the fruit up from the streets and the gardens of the good people who allowed me to get in. We were feeding a family with mango. The well being of the unborn child depended of how much fruit i picked up in a morning.
I ate so little that year, i lost around 7kilograms.
When the baby decided he wanted to born, i couldn't even afford the taxy to take the girl to the hospital. I had to ask the driver to take them there, told him i was paying the day after. He accepted, i asked for money to a friend to pay the cab.
Two days later i was happy all i did was worth it. My brother came back with the newborn, the doctors told he was healty.
The doctors were wrong. The day after, the kid had a intense fever and pain, he cried hours. My brother is too proud to ask for help, but i am not. I started nocking on the door of all our neighbours, asking who could give them a ride to the hospital. By the morning, my baby nephew was held in the newborn care unit of a bigger hospital. He was presenting the clinical features of viral meningitis.
We did everything. We hunted the medicines all over our state, we got some of them from social media groups. I had to ask to all my relatives who worked in health, just to get a couple of bottles of saline solution.
Two months of hell later, the boy was back home. All healthy. [He is one year old now. He walks, he runs, he laughs. Just one year later, there are so many children dying in this country, i can't stop thinking it was a luck he was sick then and not now]
After all that struggle, i had to say bye to my sister and her kids. They moved to Colombia.
A little part of my says i should feel strong, says that i am strong. But the other part, the bigger one, makes me feel sad and down. Since 2016, i've had so many suicidal thoughts...
That voice inside that cries out "This is not what you wanted for your life" when i find myself weak and hungry on my bed, trying to sleep to avoid the stomach roars. "You are 28 years old and you have nothing!" it says- And it's rigth. I have nothing, but the burden of my useless self, the pain of my useless leg, and the strong desire to vannish.
But dying... dying is expensive. When someone dies unexpectedly you can see their family, beggin at the bus, trying to fund the money to bury their son, their father, their brother...
I'm doing what i can to scape the hell out of here, but everyting goes so slow...
Sometimes i just cry...and sleep and try to forget.
If you have read all this... i'm sorry, i just needed to take this out
This have been happening too ofteen since 2016
I just stop and look at me and what i am doing and... get so disappointed of myself.
When i was little, i used to enjoy studying. I remember telling my parents i was ment to be a scientist or an historian. I was a lonely child, but i didn't care because i was too busy, studying so I could do big and interesting things when i grew up. But i grew up and life showed me that dreams are really hard to achieve; that this world just sucks.
I signed for law school. I took differents jobs, since my dad decided he wasn't paying my college. It worked for a while, but the economy started to become ... odd. Prices started to rise so quickly. The government set up a hard currency control and the local currency started losing its value. I left college because i had to work [No job = No money = No college/No food]
Later, i signed in a tech school, because i didn't wanted to waste my time doing nothing. I didn't lasted; i lost my job because the lady boss decided i wasn't her kind of people [i was too smart and simple, aparently. She like those gossip, silly girls who wasted the time with make up and mirrors].
I took part time jobs and used my savings to get a new laptop, because i knew the raising inflation was going to eat my money.
Then, 2013 happened. Hugo Chavez passed away and then, my first time voting in a presidential election. The chance to get rid of a terrible government. I was excited, like everyone else at home. We stayed at my grandma's house, all together, waiting for the results.
That nigth, a men came to our front door. He was carrying a gun, and other three armoured guys was hidden in the bushes.
They locked us in a bedroom. I was frozen, i was afraid my baby niece started to cry and make them nervous and more dangerous. They took my phone, my laptop, my backpack with my clothes; aimed to me with a gun, since they wanted the boxes of my devices. I just watched how they took everything they could from my grandma's house. We remanied kidnaped inside our own house for two hours.
I couldn't even cry my frustration when they left; my sister was having a attack, high blood presure. Some one was to take care of the baby.
That nigth, those mens... That was the bussiness card of Nicolas Maduro and his horrible government.
One month later, i was feeling... afraid of living. I didn't wanted to step a foot out of my house. I decided, the best treatment for my fears was stop thinking, get me so tired i didn't have the time to see how terrible was being me. I signed for a year of military service in a paratrooper unit.
It was like turn back to been a teenager. All those "new young adults" were around 18-20 years, and since i look younger than i really am, they thought i was the same age. I started to beleive that too.
I injured my leg, it's a lesion that will be with me for ever. So, I never became a paratrooper.
From May2013 to May2014 i did nothing but work.
When my service year came to its end, the economy was even worst; but i was feeling better, with new strengths, ready to start living again. I got part time jobs and did as much as i could to save money for a new attept to study. But i failed.
The food shortage started to kick my stomach. I had to start waiting in long lines to buy food; or get the food overpriced from smugglers.
At the end of 2015 my brother came home, he announced his girlfriend was expecting and now she was living with us. I wasn't happy at all. There wasn't a decent income to feed everyone, and a pregnant woman have special needs.
My fears was founded; the first months of 2016 were like hell. No matter how much my brother and i worked, there was never enough. When the mangos were in season i started carrying empty bags in my pockets, so i could pick the fruit up from the streets and the gardens of the good people who allowed me to get in. We were feeding a family with mango. The well being of the unborn child depended of how much fruit i picked up in a morning.
I ate so little that year, i lost around 7kilograms.
When the baby decided he wanted to born, i couldn't even afford the taxy to take the girl to the hospital. I had to ask the driver to take them there, told him i was paying the day after. He accepted, i asked for money to a friend to pay the cab.
Two days later i was happy all i did was worth it. My brother came back with the newborn, the doctors told he was healty.
The doctors were wrong. The day after, the kid had a intense fever and pain, he cried hours. My brother is too proud to ask for help, but i am not. I started nocking on the door of all our neighbours, asking who could give them a ride to the hospital. By the morning, my baby nephew was held in the newborn care unit of a bigger hospital. He was presenting the clinical features of viral meningitis.
We did everything. We hunted the medicines all over our state, we got some of them from social media groups. I had to ask to all my relatives who worked in health, just to get a couple of bottles of saline solution.
Two months of hell later, the boy was back home. All healthy. [He is one year old now. He walks, he runs, he laughs. Just one year later, there are so many children dying in this country, i can't stop thinking it was a luck he was sick then and not now]
After all that struggle, i had to say bye to my sister and her kids. They moved to Colombia.
A little part of my says i should feel strong, says that i am strong. But the other part, the bigger one, makes me feel sad and down. Since 2016, i've had so many suicidal thoughts...
That voice inside that cries out "This is not what you wanted for your life" when i find myself weak and hungry on my bed, trying to sleep to avoid the stomach roars. "You are 28 years old and you have nothing!" it says- And it's rigth. I have nothing, but the burden of my useless self, the pain of my useless leg, and the strong desire to vannish.
But dying... dying is expensive. When someone dies unexpectedly you can see their family, beggin at the bus, trying to fund the money to bury their son, their father, their brother...
I'm doing what i can to scape the hell out of here, but everyting goes so slow...
Sometimes i just cry...and sleep and try to forget.
If you have read all this... i'm sorry, i just needed to take this out
Last edited:
;D always there for you brother 
