Dear Dazai,

There’s a saying floating around the internet that suggests that it would be a magical thing to have the confidence of a middle-aged white guy who’s spectacularly average. I’d venture one step further to say I feel like I’d get a lot more done if I was as confident as a white man. I’d certainly feel a lot more assured in myself than I currently do.

Now, before anybody says it, of course I don’t mean all men. There it’s said and we can all move on with our lives.

There’s been a couple of things recently that have led me to this incandescent rage that I’m currently experiencing, one is, once again having to sit through a narrative that bemoans that typical struggles of a man who reaches the latter years of his life; a life that most would argue is good, better even; only to listen to him whinge about how he sold out and that life would have been so much better if he’d been a starving artist.

I hate that narrative, and I hope as we Millenials get to that age we’ve buried it deep into the abyss so that it won’t be something we’ll have to continue to suffer through it. I’m not going to feel sorry for the guy who wishes he’d starved to death on the streets pursuing true art if he’s living in a house with three cars and a loving family.

In that case, they can get fucked.

Secondly, and this one is much closer to home, which is probably why the other one set me off so much, and hurts that much more, because we expect more of the people in our lives. I have a male relative, who without any doubt has more money than pretty much anyone else I know. At least at his disposal, he doesn’t own any assests but there’s a sizable sum of cash that he has at his discretion.

This relative has been trying to con my demented grandmother out of several thousand dollars that would be going to the care of another relative, one who’s mentally and physically disabled. Worse is, is that this relative doesn’t see anything wrong in what he’s doing. He’s trying to save some money and he thinks that it’s ok to negotiate with a woman who can’t remember where the rec room is in her nursing home.

I’ve never been so disappointed in anyone and believe me, I know a lot of people who deserve to be forgotten by society for some of the shit they’ve done over the years, but this is the worst. This is the worst because he thinks he’s deserving of some consideration in this, that he’s the one who’s most at need in this equation and that sickens me. It sickens me to know that this relative will never see any of us more than the monetary value that we are to him.

It sickens me more because Christmas is coming up and he’s really looking forward to seeing me and honestly, I’d rather masturbate with sandpaper than spend an evening with him at the moment, but this is where we are. Looking down the barrel at familial obligation suggesting that the right thing to do is spend our time helping psychopaths.

But he’s a white man and obviously we exist to help him. My job in this is to support him when no one else will.

So my takeaway this Christmas is that I’d really like a time where I didn’t have to use my limited spoons to soothe someone’s soul when I’m fairly certain they don’t possess one.

So should you find yourself in a similar place, may I suggest that Christmas isn’t an excuse to help others if they’re literally the worst people. Cherish the good people in your life. Spend time with the family you love, the family that doesn’t want to make you poke your eyes out with skewers.



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