So, I’ve had good reviews on a story I can’t make a living from and no one wants to hire me for anything else. I have a family that ignores me, cut me off from my father so he doesn’t know they cut off his youngest child without even telling her and is force to fend for herself unprepared for the harsh reality of life in a world that is pre-conditioned to think all autistics with ADD are gun-toting murderers. It is like God is making a joke of me for the world to laugh at for his own amusement–even when I do everything asked of me from men and God.

Life really is unfair. All I wanted to do since the age of three was write. I wanted to live in England–land of my literary heroes Shakespeare and Tolkien–settle down, have kids and maybe a few horses on a farm. Instead, I’m force to beg for money to feed the only things I have with a heartbeat–my two cats. I’d rather die than to give them away and be left to myself without another living thing to keep me company.

No family will lift a finger–except to send prayers. I can’t eat prayers. I can’t feed my cats with prayers. I can’t wash my clothes or myself with prayers. I can’t get a job with prayers. I can’t put gas in the car to look for work with prayers. Prayers are futile without human help behind them–no matter what they say.

I’m tired of praying and tired of living on a prayer. Prayers never did anything but sound good one day a week to make people shed their guilt for not giving to that homeless person or avoiding the homeless shelter.

People read my work and love it; but love doesn’t feed the hungry or heal the sick–unless you are Jesus and he’s no where to be found.–J.