I live in the wrong part of town, and it’s going to be the death of me. I have watched over the years as they have killed my neighbors. One by one, then whole groups at a time. Violent. Wasteful. I’m afraid for my life, for real. This is a legit plea for help.
New neighbors move in. They say it’s going to help, but I don’t believe it. Lots of new neighbors just mean that many old ones have died. And, honestly, when there’s so few of us old neighbors left, it just seems to make us targets. The new neighbors are starting to become the aggressors. They are targeting me.
Look, I’m a good neighbor. I’m clean, quiet, traditional. I don’t feel like I deserve to die. I DEFINITELY don’t deserve to die. You can call me paranoid. You can say that I’m afraid for no reason, but they’re coming for me. Right now.
They tell me there are better places for neighbors like me. If only I had been born in a more progressive city, someplace that has been at the forefront of developing the kind of rights I need to survive. I wish that someone in charge would listen for once, but the government seems to be perpetrating the attacks on me. I don’t know if I represent some kind of a threat to people or what, but I don’t think I’m going to survive much longer.
I hope you don’t think I’ve given up. I haven’t. I just have to accept reality. I’m going to die, and soon. The ones that love me don’t seem to know how to stop the ones that hate me and there’s literally nowhere else for me to go.
Look, if you think you can help, if you want to do something, go to the authorities. Let them know what’s happening to me, that they need to do something. Maybe go to the media? I feel like they’ve stopped listening to me after all these years. Maybe they’ll listen to you.
If they need to know where to find me, I’ll be in the same place I’ve been for the last 131 years. 1110 Douglas Street.
Seriously, Help Me!
The Specht Building