fandomsecrets | [ SECRET POST #3985 ]

⌈ Secret Post #3985 ⌋

Warning: Some secrets are NOT worksafe and may contain SPOILERS.

01.

[American Vandal]

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02.

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03. https://i.imgur.com/HaEUG3x.png
[Hayley Atwell, linked for nudity/sex]

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04.

[Flight Rising]

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05.

[Supergirl]

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06. [SPOILERS for Stranger Things]

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07. [SPOILERS for Justice League]

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08. [SPOILERS for Justice League]

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09. [SPOILERS for The Punisher]

Notes:

Secrets Left to Post: 00 pages, 00 secrets from Secret Submission Post #570.
Secrets Not Posted: [ 0 - broken links ], [ 0 - not!secrets ], [ 0 - not!fandom ], [ 0 - too big ], [ 0 - repeat ].
Current Secret Submissions Post: here.
Suggestions, comments, and concerns should go here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Money might not equal happiness, but you can buy a hell of a lot of happiness for yourself with a million bucks.

I have money and am still unhappy. Furthermore a million is not that much, many people in US have this amount. So, my answer stands.

Get rid of all of your money and wait a few months. Then, log into the free internet at a public library and let us know if you were happier with money than without any.

sa
the funny thing is I was happier with a public PC in the library. I used it when I was a student when not many had a laptop. It really helped me with my Internet addiction. I mainly read fics there for an hour or two.

Sweetie, if you don't think a million is that much money then this conversation doesn't apply to you.

Ahhahaha... If I saved every penny I earned for 50 years because I miraculously didn’t have to spend it, I might have one million at the end of it. Fuck you.

sa
hey! You don't know me and my life. Stop cursing at strangers on the Internet.

AYRT—

I was born three months premature and have brain and some physical damage as a result, which I spent my childhood being bullied for and barely graduated high school with.

I have four living relatives, two of them by blood. My maternal grandfather was a racist, sexist, classist piece of shit who raped his wife and all his children and spent his 70th birthday in jail for trying to lure the paperboy into his house and rape him. He died when his esophagus ruptured and they found him a couple days later.

His wife, my grandma, drank herself to death before I was born. His eldest son, one of my favorite uncles, drank himself to death at 47. My mom lasted longer, but I lost her earlier this year after a 15 year fight with cancer and a 45 year fight with addiction. Her remaining brother is one of my two living blood relatives; I’m his only one.

In 2010, my paranoid schizophrenic drug addicted Vietnam veteran father took all his meds at once and walked out on the freeway, where he was killed by a passing truck. It took him 15 minutes to die. Over the years he’d tried to kidnap me to have a shunt put in my head, lived in the spare room of my mom’s house with his 18 year old girlfriend who he fought with constantly, dove through an acquaintance’s window armed with an illegally modified assault rifle loaded with armor piercing rounds, broke into my mom’s house many times when she kicked him out, and spent all her savings before she finally divorced him when he started selling the furniture. It took me a couple of years after his death to stop flinching when I heard the gate to the back fence open. His youngest brother is still alive, everyone else died of cancer, alcoholism, or both.

For the last five years of her life, when she blamed herself for not saving my dad, I dealt with all the paperwork and bills as my mom went in and out of rehab, lost her job, spent her paychecks on alcohol, and periodically got kicked out of care homes for drinking. It was a rare week when I wasn’t scrubbing blood, shit, piss, or vomit out of something or waiting in the ER by her bedside, or both. I did the cooking, cleaning, changed her wound dressings and clothes, bathed her, took her to the doctor, did her laundry, paid the utilities and the insurance, and was still finding bloodstains in weird places months after she died. I slept on the floor next to her the night before she died, but I had to go to work the next day and she was dead thirty minutes before my shift ended.

I make a bit over $1,200 a month. I managed to hold onto my mom’s house while she was alive, but I need to pay property taxes this month and get the house insured and every time I find another of mom’s hospital bills it takes me weeks to open because what if I can’t pay it?

There. Now you know something about my life. Wanna trade?

No, I don't want to trade, though I've had plenty of awful things happen to me in my life too. But those things - both yours and mine - are frankly irrelevant to this conversation. What we're talking about here is poverty vs. non-poverty.

I never once implied I "knew something" about your life. What I implied was that I knew something about being poor, and guess what? It sucks.

Would you like to trade your life - the life you have now, for a life that's just the same as your current life but in which you ALSO can't afford to pay your rent and you live in constant fear of homelessness? Where you can't buy a single nice thing for yourself ever, or afford to eat anything that isn't essentially bland, empty calories, because everything remotely good for you is too expensive?

That's the real question. And that's what everybody else in this thread is trying to get through to you.

Shit, sorry, thought your were other anon. Though this was a different spot in the thread. Ignore comment.

AYRT—yeah, I was basically saying the same thing as in your reply to me when you thought I was the other anon—I’m scraping by, have been for years, and have done the “food or utilities” calculus before. While I bet a lot of my nasty family history would still be nasty if I or my family had been rich instead of working class, awful shit that happens is way worse when you have to make the choice between food and medical care, or any other necessities, on top of dealing with tragedy. “My whole family is dead” is awful. “My whole family is dead and I can’t pay their debts off and went hungry caring for them” is worse. Money can’t solve every problem, but it helps.

I have money and am still unhappy.

That's too bad.

Personally, I spent the first twenty years of my life having the heat in my home periodically shut off, having the hot water periodically shut off, wondering whether we'd manage to pay the rent, and scraping by on stuff from the food bank.

I now have enough money that I don't have to worry about that stuff. I have saving in the low five figures, and I can afford to buy myself nice things sometimes. I can get myself yummy drinks at Starbucks, a nice TV, and some nice-looking good quality clothes. AND IT'S SO FUCKING WONDERFUL, LET ME TELL YOU.

Having money hasn't made me happy, I still work on being happy daily, just like most people. But it has definitely made me a hell of a lot less sad, scared, isolated, exhausted, and resigned to feeling helpless. I have the privilege of having first world problems now, and it's fantastic.

[ SECRET POST #3985 ]

Re: What is the worst thing you would do for one million buckaroos?

Re: What is the worst thing you would do for one million buckaroos?

Re: What is the worst thing you would do for one million buckaroos?

Re: What is the worst thing you would do for one million buckaroos?

Re: What is the worst thing you would do for one million buckaroos?

Re: What is the worst thing you would do for one million buckaroos?

Re: What is the worst thing you would do for one million buckaroos?

Re: What is the worst thing you would do for one million buckaroos?

Re: What is the worst thing you would do for one million buckaroos?

SA

Re: What is the worst thing you would do for one million buckaroos?

Re: What is the worst thing you would do for one million buckaroos?