My American Dystopia

I grew up in south Florida. For all intents and purposes, I had the ideal childhood. My teenage years were a tad awkward at times, but not outrageously more so than my contemporaries. My early twenties weren’t so bad, though they weren’t great either. I never had much luck with girls at any point in my American life, but I always remained optimistic. But then it happened, I realized that there was more to the world and my role in it than meets the eye. As it turns out, my life up until that point was the quintessential example of recognition without acknowledgement. That would be understandable if I were a person that deliberately called attention to myself with my antics. But I was actually someone that tried to fit in and act normal. Therein lies the problem; there is definitely something unusual about the way local Americans viewed me at the time. According to the truth of my heart of hearts, it seemed like I was expected to cope with all of the negative aspects of my apparent notoriety, but none of the advantages. It was as if everyone was involved in a conversation about me that I was not allowed to participate in directly. Not only is that an egregious affront to my intelligence, it made it difficult for me to assimilate after 20 years of living, studying, and working in what I thought was my home country. One day, circumstances forced me to move to the Dominican Republic. After the six month limit for permanent residents outside of the country, I attempted to go back to my native south Florida. Unfortunately, I didn’t know a soul in the entire country who would open their doors to me, even though I had cash in hand at the time. After doing everything to try to return, I eventually became resigned to my fate. I accepted the fact that nobody in the entire United States had any respect for me or my honors college degree. If they did, I would have no trouble finding work that I was not overqualified for. There may be a significant number of people in America who think that the idea of a janitor with an honors college degree is funny, but I’m not laughing. Over time it became painfully obvious to me that the people around me in the states gained a seemingly immeasurable amount of entertainment from my life without ever having to pay for my services, products, or highly developed skills. That’s when I decided that the time for the free show was over. If everyone in the entire U.S. of A. felt that their lives were truly better off without me, then I have no choice but to consider the feeling mutual. Imagine everyone poking fun at your adult problems and belittling you at every opportunity, never once stopping to express some concern. When I first started coming to grips with my reality, I felt bad. But then I saw some statistics on the news about how Americans kill each other with guns more than any other country on earth. That means that I got out of there before someone else who hates the culture but doesn’t process information the way that I do could shoot up the movie theatre that I happen to be in on a particular day. It’s a good thing that I hate going to the movies alone. The point is that I don’t care how many people try to explain my feelings away by calling me crazy or paranoid. I cannot ignore the fact that the lobbyist class in America found a way to exploit my existence and add insult to injury by manipulating the uneducated masses into being at odds with me philosophically. There may be a significant number of people that want me to return, but I have not heard a single voice expressing that sentiment. It is for that reason that I cannot return to a system that is run by people who benefit financially from my life more than I do. Let me tell you, watching a complete stranger exercise their constitutional right to publicly wish me financial harm with impunity is not something that any responsible adult would tolerate. Truth be told, my life in America turned into hell. As I can only slaughter devils in the spirit dimension, going to a country where devilish laughter is a cultural norm is not on my to do list. It’s even difficult for me to identify with other minorities because they seem to be accustomed to presenting a unified front in the face of any public outrage. My case seems singular because there simply is no public outrage for the predatory tactics that are used against me by the intolerant powers that be. America may be the best country in the world to the most privileged among them, but the people there made it painfully obvious to me that I am simply not one of them. From now on, I will try to remember the good times and move on. That is what normal people do, isn’t it?

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