Canada. Home to a federal police force (the RCMP) using tasers to murder with impunity. A justice system that lets the most heinous of criminals walk free, after a brief incarceration, with a university degree at the taxpayers expense and an apology for how we, as a society, failed them.

We have a joke of a government, completely out of touch with the people and doing it's best to turn us into a fascist state while pissing away our resources and fundamental rights.

Our healthcare system is not the wonderful thing we tell ourselves, and the rest of the world, that it is.

Did I mention we have a public education system that's stepping back into the ignorance of the middle ages... And forget about higher learning at university. Unless you're rich, willing to go deeply into debt with students loans or willing to murder someone (in which case it's free) you're not getting that Ph.D. You're working at Wal-Mart.

But again, nothing I can do there so enough of the caustic commentary and on to the cathartic confessional.

It all began when I was a little boy...

Teenage parents divorced young, a three-way custody battle between them and my maternal grandparents, the end result seeing me as a ward of the court. Society's child. Literally. By the time I was 16 and homeless I'd spent a total of three years in government run group homes.

I'm a clever guy. I can psycho-analyse myself. It's no wonder I forge few close emotional bonds, have no family ties and a tendency towards cynicism. My childhood was raped. I want to sue someone. I want some money. We live in a culture of (perceived) entitlement and I'm entitled.

But everybody has a hard life and rising above the challenges is what defines us, right? Unfortunately, I haven't risen very far at all.

I always wanted, needed, to do something with my life that meant something, that served more than just myself. I just didn't know what. With my aptitudes and interests so diverse I've yet to find my "calling" and so... I've done nothing. The result of that indecision, of straddling the fence

between conventional career path and pursuing the arts, committing fully to neither, sees me unemployed during a recession after years of chronic under-employment as it is.

And as I age a sense of desperation starts seeping in. I should have figured it out by now, shouldn't I?

The longer it takes, the less time I have to pursue my dreams before I'm forced to settle for something solely for survival. In fact while some say, philosophically, it's never too late to chase your dreams, the pragmaticist in me fears it may already be so.

Feeling like a failure, when I should be focusing on a home, a family and the future, fills me with self-loathing and anger. It's rendered me short-tempered and lashing out at the people closest to me, which in turn makes me feel guilty which only leads to more anger and self-loathing.

And I've no outlets. I can't throw myself into my work. I'm out of work.

Besides, while one could be passionate about a career in law or medicine there's little life affirmation

or fulfillment in stocking shelves or working in a call centre.

Healthwise, I've gone from athletic to average very quickly. I can't seem to sustain the motivation to eat and exercise properly.

Artistically, this site is a more often a source of frustration than release. It could be much more than it is but I can't do it alone. We've never had a reliable team. A few contributors step up from time to time but it's not enough and the resulting apathy makes my own work suffer. Most of my articles are unedited drafts added out of sense of obligation. Now before anyone says I'm "depressed", and prescribes happy pills, I'm actually a very positive, forward, thinker. I just feel old and unfulfilled. And the anger is almost paralysing. I know where to start. I just can't seem to get started and can't seem to catch a bloody break.

And impotent rage, that unchanneled anger, will eat you alive if you let it.

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