Dear Diary,
Today's rollercoaster ride has left me grappling with a mix of emotions that I can't quite put into words. Imagine being handed spreadsheets, seemingly innocuous before, but this time, they're a Pandora's box of people's lives – banking details, personal info, the whole shebang. The catch? It's a friend of mine behind this potential identity theft extravaganza. Betrayal hits different when it's someone you never thought capable.
I've turned into this frantic messenger, dialing numbers in a desperate attempt to warn people. Banks, trusts, you name it – I've tried them all. Yet, it feels like my cries for help are echoing in an empty void. No one seems to care about the impending disaster, and it's disheartening how little humanity can matter in the grand scheme of things.
The irony of it all is that I find myself in this financial limbo, months without my own money, feeling more isolated than ever. The upcoming Christmas festivities serve as a stark reminder of my loneliness – no cheerful greetings, no familial warmth. It's a silent night in the worst possible sense.
In the midst of this chaos, there's a seductive temptation to turn the tables, assume a new identity, and escape the hellish reality I'm stuck in. But then there's the internal struggle, a battle with the demons of borderline personality disorder that I never asked for but must navigate nonetheless.
No comments:
Post a Comment