The important thing is always to learn. It doesn't matter what you're reading, what you're doing, as long as you're learning. Life is made up of stories, so always make sure to take stock of everything around you, and anything interesting that happens. It may someday make for a good story. But if it doesn't, it was still a learning experience. So go out, learn, live, and make a story worth telling.
I’m quite miserable at the moment. As you already know, I’m stuck moving back in with my parents, cuz I’m not strong enough to be able to hold down a job or be a person or whatever. Well, as if that weren’t torture enough for me (since that’s all my life seems to be lately), no, I found out how it could be so much worse. Mom and John are going to have a hard time being able to afford for me to live there with them. So John told me, over and over again, for almost half an hour. I’m pretty certain I’ll be getting that guilt trip on a daily basis, and an extra large helping of verbal abuse to go with it. So now, not only am I completely losing contact with everybody I know and love, and moving to bumfuck middle of nowhere, but now I’m going to be treated like the lowest piece of shit possible, and be lectured for failing at life. Yeah, that’ll be REALLY FUCKING GOOD for my depression.
The best part is, I have absolutely no other option. I can’t afford to stay with Jim (what with having zero income and all). I don’t know anybody I could couch hop on, because I can’t afford to pay for anything of my own. I’ll have to wait for Tuesday when I see my caseworker lady, see if that emergency housing she mentioned is available. Because this is definitely an emergency. I’ll take anything at this point. Crime-infested, roach infested, 20 roommates, I don’t care. Fuck, I’m so damn scared about moving in with my parents now. I just know every shred of sanity I’ve managed to gather these past few years will be torn to shreds and then shit on. I just hope when I start cutting again (when, not if, at the rate things are going), that I don’t get yelled at too much.
If I even knew of a couch to sleep on, I might be able to get cash from my parents, but that involves knowing of a couch. I’d only need it for a few months, until I know about SSD and SSI. God fucking damnit, I hope that emergency housing stuff is for serious, cuz I’m pretty sure that living on the street would be safer to my mental health right now than what I’m going to be forced into. I mean, they’re even going to take away my phone while I’m there to save money. No trips to Dayton, either, I’m guessing, unless someone else springs for gas (which will NOT happen). I am in hell. This just proves it.
Oh, and for those people that read my blog but don’t post, trust me, this is the time to reply, to write to me, call me, visit me, see me, keep me from thinking of my fate. Please, for the love of the gods and all that is holy, do NOT let me spend this last week of not-hell crying.
Oh gods, I don’t want to move there now, I really don’t. Before, it wasn’t so bad. I’d lose contact with everybody, but at least I’d be safe. But now, I don’t even get the safety. Fuck, my life is hell. I’m in hell. I must’ve done something really bad to deserve this. Oh gods, I’m so scared right now. I’m not exactly sure I’ll even survive living there now. In hell, one tries to escape. And my mom has a LOT of medicines that would make suicide a little too easy. I won’t be safe there. I’m not over-reacting, I’m serious. I won’t be safe in the least.
Oh gods, I’m going to die there, I just know it. Oh gods, oh gods. I don’t really want to die. Not like that. Oh gods, oh gods.
