I’ll be honest here, I don’t really have a good reason to beg for money, there really isn’t one. Yes, I am jobless right now, I can’t find a job because I have stress and anxiety issues and I don’t have a degree in anything and lastly, I am not confident in myself. Also, I don’t think I have the power to solve these issues by my self.
I could write a LONG story about how sad my life was – living for 13 years in fear and stress and dark with my drunk dad (who passed away last year march because of overuse of alcohol and cigarettes which stopped his heart) who didn’t care about me, being bullied in school for about 8 years until I finished it, and how I think that these bad events not only shaped me into this miserable person that I am today, but also gave me health issues like irritable bowel syndrome and anxiety. I will not write this story here or anywhere else, because, I don’t think anyone would care and honestly, I know for a fact that there are millions of people who had it worse than me, and they deserve more than me.
I live in Lithuania, a country where the minimum wage is 400 euros, a country in which the economic and social situation is so terrible, I don’t know what can save it at this point. Even if I had a job that I am still trying to find, I expect to earn no more than that. I have to pay bills every month for flat renovation (I had no say in the matter whether i wanted it or not) 85 euro, pay the bills in winter every month about another 100 euro, other services like internet and phone 30 euro and the rest goes to food and car, which is not enough. Clothing, furniture, repairs, anything you can think of that is other that those things that I mentioned in my previous sentence is out of the question. To put it simply, I don’t LIVE a life, I only EXIST.
I feel guilty, my first idea when I came across this website was to make up some really sad story and hope I’ll get some money out of it. But I don’t want to lie to people, I don’t want to be that low as a person, I don’t want to abuse this system, which has people in it, who really need help.
In the end, I am happy I wrote this, I needed to let it out somewhere. I never got the chance to talk to my father and tell him how living those first 13 years of my life with him was terrifying. There was a moment a few years ago when I wanted to talk to him about it, write everything down, but I was not brave enough to tell him everything, about how he made me feel and how that negatively impacted me for the rest of my life. Maybe if I told him how I felt, I would have saved him from alcohol and turned his life around, but it didn’t happen, he died a few days after me ignoring his calls and messages asking to buy him alcohol.
Thank you for reading this short story, just knowing that someone read it, makes me really happy.
I won’t die from hunger but if you feel my story and my life is worth anything, I appreciate any donation. If possible, I would thank you in person.