It’s a dark day. I’m not having good thoughts. I’m tired of fighting against poverty.
Sucky domestic life.
No joy except fir writing and the three beautiful friends I have. I just wish they lived closer.
I don’t want to be done. I really don’t but, I feel that way. I am miserable. In physical and mental pain.
I am going to try and find counseling my insurance covers.
Try to stay focused on the physical tasks that I need to do.
I also don’t want to die in this dump.
Life has to improve. It just has to.
My health issues are scary. my finances are precarious. This thirteen year old abyss is killing me.
I’m trying to find the spark. It got ignited by my new knee and I thought my life would begin to turn around and this fucking virus came along and fucked up the world even more for almost everyone.
If I could just get the financial miracle I want and need I could comfortably continue counseling-because it’s urgent now and I need it-and move from here into a clean, comfortable safe home where I can think and plan and rebuild my life.
I’m scared but, trying to hang on.