Do Not Bank with Bank of America

My name is Carlie Rouse, I am just your average 21 year old. I live in Dodge City, Kansas. I am a full-time student and work practically full-time at Montana Mike's Steakhouse as a Certified Trainer/ Food Server. I make $3.13 an hour and tips. I was raised to be a conscientious individual, to pay my bills on time, and be financially responsible. It is rare that I have a late fee or am unable to make a payment on time.

I started having problems with Bank of America back in October of 2008 when they had taken out a $70 "Adjustment Fee" which they claimed to have made because of a deposit that had been made inaccurately. I chose to disregard this, working in the service industry, I understand that everyone makes mistakes at some point. However, disgruntled, I chose to keep my account with Bank of America. That is where I made a big mistake.

On June 8, 2009 I made an ATM deposit of $463.00 at the Bank of America located on 2307 N. Central in Dodge City, KS. When I had made this deposit the ATM had a malfunction and did not process all of my funds. The next day my statement read that I had only made a deposit of $397.07, also the bank had given me an "Adjustment Fee" of $300.00. Within the following week, I had acquired $280 worth of overdraft fees because of the deposit for which was not accounted. On June 15, 2009 I spoke with a teller at the bank in which I had made the deposit and I was told to call the bank's 1800 number to file an ATM dispute. When I called the number I was directed to the claims department and made a claim for the lost money. When I inquired why I was given a $300 adjustment fee the representative could not provide me with an answer. I was given temporary credit for the funds which was posted on my account on June 16, 2006. On this day, July 8, 2009 I received a letter in the mail from Bank of America stating that "we were successful in locating the original transaction you referenced; unfortunately, we did not locate any cash for this transaction." Bank of America is now billing me for their negligence regarding the money that I had deposited on June 8th.

Today I opened an account with a different bank and filed disputes against Bank of America to the Better Business Bureau and also the FDIC. Bank of America is corrupt corporation which takes money out of your account using their obscene $35.00 overdraft fee and makes "Adjustment Fees," for which they cannot give a clear explanation. If you are a customer of the Bank of America use my situation as an example of the bank's malpractices. Choose a bank that is reputable and one with which you can trust, not one that steals your hard-earned money to fuel corporate greed.

I Am Nothing

Mon coeur est invisible

mon ame est mort

je suis rien...

Je suis rien...

The pages turn 

but the story is still the same. 

The faces change 

but the lies remain all the same.

My purity is stripped

from this grim reality.

My body is whipped

I have no vitality.

I am cold,

colder than a stone

I am hollow

more hollow than bone.

I have nothing to give

I have nothing for which to live

They took my heart with such great force

and ran away with no remorse.

I am no longer human

there are no longer tears

hidden behind a curtain

of insecurities and fears.

Throw me away

Ball me up

cast me into the day

It's easiest that way.

Realization

Why is it always easier to dwell on the sad times

than to relish in the moments of happiness?

Are we only victims of our own pain,

cursors of our own joy?

I recently told an acquaintance of mine

"Stop looking for your own happiness within others."

I find it odd that I can pick out my own faults in others,

and yet I can't even fix them.

I repeat the same sick cycle of abuse.

Forever allowing people to beat me to the core. 

I feel I will never know acceptance

because I can still never accept myself.

It is easier to let someone hate you

than to allow someone to love you.

Why do I push away those who love me

and cling to those to will never care?

Revived

Is it just that I am a fiend for pain?

Or simply that when I'm not feeling anger or sadness I do not know what to feel.

Perhaps it is that both may be true. 

Most days I feel nothing more than a lost soul walking this earth, 

waiting to discover whatever purpose I was supposed to have. 

Then again, I wonder if I do have purpose. 

What if I am just put on this earth as God's sick joke?

A menace to society, a burden to those who chose to let me enter their lives. 

I recount that an ex boyfriend of mine used to state that "you're in love with your sadness." As of late I have found this to be disturbingly true. There's a sort of inner beauty to sadness, a sort of vulnerability if you must. My words are only found in a looming state of depression. The inspiration only comes during the nights I sit alone with tears in my eyes and a bottle of wine in my grasp.

I am a victim for abuse. I cling to those who treat me worse than the dirt on their shoe. In misery I am alive. With pain there is always passion. I yearn for those who bring me down to my knees. Writhing in agony, I am for once vulnerable. You've seen my breaking point, you've seen my soul. For it is words, not blows, that hurt the most.

Take away my control, take away my soul, strip me clean of who am I am, I'll only love you more...