There has been a lot of circumstantial stuff happening with me lately that I have not really talked about with anyone. I haven't even written about most of it on here.
But it's piling up and I feel like I can't breathe. So I just need to type it out. I need to express it all. Because fuck, man. I feel like I am not going to survive it.
This is in no particular order. Just as it comes out of me.
The family owned, rent controlled, apartment building that I have lived in for 6 years, that once housed Jack Kerouac, Neil Cassady, and Allen Ginsberg, was sold two weeks ago to a giant property management company.
A company that has been buying up all of the historic buildings in the neighborhood and "renovating them" so they look like all the other beige piece of shit buildings that are being built. Because fuck history, go progress.
The same company bought the building across the street from mine and now a studio in that building costs $1385 a month, plus utilities. I currently pay $600, and I am barely making that. The new management (who looks a lot like Ted Cruz) won't tell any of us when the rent will be raised or how much it will be raised too. He legally only has to give us 30 days notice. And we legally have to give 30 days notice if we are going to move out.
So in other words, come December 1st, I might find out that my rent has more than doubled and then have only 30 days to find a new place to live. All with terrible credit, absolutely no savings, and in fact usually less than a hundred dollars in my bank account at any given time. And if not December 1st, then January 1st, or March 1st. It will happen. It is just a matter of time.
Which means I am probably going to be homeless very soon.
I have couches lined up. I don't think I will have to sleep in my car. I will put my stuff in storage. It will be fine.
But of course it won't be. No privacy. No safe place to be alone. I would be a very real burden on whoever it is that lets me in. I would feel constant pressure to find another place. But where? Where could I go?
And that's to the larger point. I am in some real financial peril. And I have been for like a fucking decade.
Right now, I am driving a car that is registered in someone else's name because I still can't afford to pay the title and registration fees myself. And those plates are now expired. If I get pulled over, that ticket will undoubtedly make me homeless.
This is not to mention the over $75,000 in medical debt, the $30,000 in student loans, and the $3,000 debt that I can not and have not been able to pay anything on. I am in default on everything but my student loans. I see no escape from any of that. I am overwhelmed by it.
And my goddamn mental illness makes it so hard for me to find a decent job. I get panic attacks thinking about it. I feel so depressed and incompetent and worthless that I just know no one will ever hire me. And so I freeze up and either don't apply or apply in a unconvincing manner.
That or it's my goddamn bohemian artistic ideals. Like something in me feels like I'd be giving up on my dreams of being a writer if I find a job that pays me a livable wage. It's so goddamn stupid. But it does feel true that I would be horribly miserable in any job that wasn't creative and controlled by me. But again my goddamn mental illness causes me to freeze up anytime I try to publish or find creative work. Like I will be found out to be a fraud and then won't even have my dreams to hold onto and there does not seem to be anyway that I can survive that. What would be the point of living?
Relationships? I don't know.
I do have a lot of friends and I lot of people who really love me. They really truly care. But they are all so busy or far away or going through their own depression issues that I never get to see them. And I feel so incredibly alone. I would love nothing more to be hugged and just be allowed to cry.
It's probably selfish to say this, but I would really love to be the center of attention every once in a while. I feel like when I do get to see my friends, I invariably take on the role of the counselor and try to help them with their problems. That, or we deliberately try to talk about something else because we know we are in too dark a place to be able to speak of it.
And fuck, I am deeply concerned for all my friends. They are really suffering. I want to help, but I can't. I don't know what to do to help. And they can't help me.
And so really, I am utterly and hopelessly alone.
And I am suffering from romantic rejection and am so terrified to try again. I just can't have any hope in that area. It is beyond my cognitive abilities to imagine any situation in which someone would love me in the romantic sense. But my goddamn heart simply will not be convinced of what my brain is so sure of.
So I constantly feel the pangs in my heart. That strong desire to fully know and love someone and have them fully know and love me. My goddamn ignorant foolish heart can't get it through it's thick fucking skull that this is just not something that is going to happen.
And that hurts like hell.
And my dad has cancer.
It just came back. And because America is broken and treats veterans like shit, he has been waiting for three weeks to hear the results of an MRI to see if the cancer has spread to his spine. And he is rightfully freaking the fuck out.
And my dad was abusive to me and we don't have a good relationship and I am not sure I am ready to try to have a good relationship but maybe he's dying now. So that's cool.
And my mom is so incredibly depressed that I am deeply worried for her life. She hates where she is living, has no real friends, my dad never talks to her and only wants to watch Fox News all day. And she is having a major crisis of faith because she has been lovingly devoted to God for most of her life and feels like she should have ended up in a better place than an RV park in Arizona with a loveless marriage, no community, and absolutely no financial security. And she blames herself for me and my depression.
I get off the phone with her and weep. Because I don't know what to say to her. I find myself emotionally incapable of doing or saying anything. It's all so heavy and I don't feel like I am the person she is supposed to be talking to about all this shit. But fuck. It hurts. And I feel like a shitty ungrateful son.
And I probably fucking am a shitty ungrateful son.
Oh, and my chronic pain is getting worse and worse. The pain is unbearable right now and nothing seems to be helping. I can't see a doctor about because I have no insurance, no money, and was rejected for Medicaid.
And with all that, I still have major anxiety and sometimes feel like I can't trust my own reality.
I am on meds now and they are helping, but they are only helping me not be constantly overwhelmed by all of this. They help me function. But the feelings are all there.
And I am losing my mind.
And there is no where to go.
No one is coming to save me.
I cannot conceive of a future that is not infinitely worse than the present.
The president is a monster and the news every day is awful and traumatic and there is nothing to be done.
I don't know what to do.
I don't know what to do.
I don't know what to do.
I don't know what to do.
6:15 p.m. - 2017-11-05
Recent entries:
The match lit in the darkness. - 2017-11-28
An Untitled Poem: First Draft - 2017-11-23
It's Not Okay, but I am Okay - 2017-11-22
Pent Up - 2017-11-21
Fuck. - 2017-11-11
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