A Bottle
I have written this letter hundreds of times. Never sent.
I don’t know where the line is between when I should just suck it up and keep going and when it’s time to complain. I don’t know why those two things are seen as mutually exclusive. I’m soldiering on after many vocal complaints. Both can exist, I think.
...that capitalism is a casino rigged by drunk croupiers where the prize is a timeshare in Hell and the only way to win is to die with enough debt they can’t repossess your skeleton.