It's deeply life changing to be sick the way I am. Ten years ago, I was exposed to large volumes of Yankee Candles and Scentsicles Christmas Ornaments at work, which made me violently ill. After four months of exposure at a part time job, I've been sick every day for ten years.
Every day, itchy nodules form in my legs, which I have to bust out and disinfect before they get huge and painful. Sometimes I have dozens. Apparently this is an early sign of cancer. I use strong medicine to relieve the itching, but it's no use. As soon as it wears off, it feels as though fire ants are attacking me, even in my sleep. When I wake up in the morning, I breathe a shakier breath than yesterday from the chronic upper respiratory infections I now have, I look down at my scarred legs which have looked worse every day for a long time, and I feel in my heart that cancer will kill me young and quickly. In my time as a panhandler I've met multiple people dying of cancer on the street because no one "wants to pay for" their healthcare. Since the value of the American dollar is imaginary, not backed by gold but by fear, we all know what this really means - Americans will decide some people deserve to be exterminated, and they'll all turn the other way and make any excuse for it (like pretending the US currency has limited value or quantity, when without the bombs it would be as good as a pile of monopoly money.)
The teachers in school who helplessly shook their heads when I became homeless, my parents who beat and raped me instead of allowing me to grow and thrive, my so-called friends who turned away when I was forced to drop out and work, the chemists who created those products, and perhaps even the CEO of Michael's who chooses to exploit impoverished young people like me, who had no choice but to shelve volatile organic toxins for him...all of them have killed me as surely as if they put a gun to my head and pulled the trigger.
Without inherited wealth, I can't even secure a bed inside to sleep in, let alone a lawyer, since everything has to be bought in this country. Working full time at multiple jobs, I could barely scrape by, and the moment I fell ill and missed a few shifts, I would lose everything I had worked for. I worked while homeless multiple times, and slept in my car in the parking lot, or in the break room. Some Americans have even suggested I should try to get a job while I slept on the sidewalk. The fact is that my work and life are too devalued to escape from the poverty I was born into. Americans are so brainwashed to look the other way and deny the truth, that I can't even speak openly about my family history or race without getting accused of lying by dozens of entitled strangers. Americans are taught to be "self-reliant," which to them means they should be free to rob, slander, rape, or murder anyone they view as "needy" or "poor" (after ripping them off for anything they might have, of course.) People on the street are typically kinder to me than people online, because rich white brats rarely approach me in real life (good thing, because they're my favorite to spit on.) As such, I have many more fans in real life than I do online - many of my best friends who I feature in these comics, can't afford cell phones. In New Orleans, I carried my portfolio on me at all times, so the other travelers could read through my "dailies." (and I give all my work to the friends depicted in it, if I get the chance.)
I just wanna say, I know I'm here for a good time, not a long time. I meet a lot of incredibly talented artists while I travel, so I know exactly how lucky I am to have fans to support me and buy artworks whenever I need cash (and especially lucky that I still have tons of white friends despite my horrible reverse racism.)
Someone on here once said that an independent artist is "petite bourgeoisie" and I thought about that while I slept on the sidewalk...It makes sense, because I really am hobo royalty. It's good to be the king!
Meow, thanks for reading!
