November 9th, 2018 by tiredofchronicpain

I am back in South Africa, even worse off. I fucking HATE South Africa. I certainly do not see myself as a Saffa anymore. If the weird specimens with their foreign accents they taught themselves to look superior of only being overseas for a month at most, is not pissing me off, it is the domestic lot. The plane was the worst. You just want to grab the idiot by the ear with his loud winey, bitchy voice pretending to be foreigner while you can clearly here the strong accent lurking behind it, and the typical attitude. There certainly is no shortage of this extreme pecking order. “I am better than you” mentality. Yeah, it is enough to put a damn bullet in your head. At least in Australia people were very accepting. A lot of us Aussies suffer depression and anxiety. We are not a pompous lot. We are down to earth and accept our fates.

 

Pompous family members and friends with the inclination to keep on eves dropping and comparing themselves to you constantly murmuring in dark: “mmm, that 29 year old still lives with his parents, look how well our kids turned”. I really am between a rock and a hard place myself: will I kill myself and leave my family members devastated, or keep on living but suffer so much internally and externally and for no reason and suffer the quirrels and gossip of my family’s relations and family friends. I mean, my life certainly will not get better. So why keep on living? Killing myself would be the most rational decision to make. Part of the giant problem of S.A. is the old world mindset too. In Australia and NZ, I remember how easy it was to get the gadgets and methods for a peaceful euthanasia, now in SA the smallest things takes ages and with expense attached to it.

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