Will Blog For Produce

My internets got cut off. They don't like it when you don't pay. So, now I am borrowing my neighbor's wifi. Thanks neighbor!

I am having a really hard time writing lately. Every time I start to write something real I end up crying or needing to medicate. I can't organize my thoughts. I constantly feel like I'm whining. My circumstances are shitty and it feels like I can't do anything to do to improve them. I keep typing out sentences that explain what's going on, and then deleting them. I'm not really making sense. My head hurts.

The worst of it is being poor, I guess. We're low on food and behind in rent, too. I can't think about it too much, because I get really scared. We're in talks with the assistance people, and should be getting the food stamp card thing squared away any day now, so there's a step. But the staircase, it is a long one. And steep, man. Really steep. Also, no handrail. Wheee, metaphors.

I'm all over craigslist, hoping to find some work from home that's not a scam. No luck yet.

I have a couple in my life, an older man and woman. I ran into them accidentally the other day and had a brief chance to talk with each. The conversations were radically different. The woman, who has migraines herself, dominated the conversation with her own stories, asking a few token questions and interrupting my answers within seconds. This was frustrating, to put it mildly. The talk I had with the man was the polar opposite. He asked how I am and I answered honestly, he hugged me and we changed the subject to something happier, his recent travels and how cute my little dog is. It was a mutual give and take of love and support. Unfortunately, since the interactions, it's the negative conversation that has stayed with me. I keep replaying it in my head, feeling invalidated and used. It makes me more afraid to open up to people.




Unapologeticaly not-subtle reminder: I have that cute little donate button on the sidebar, if you are so inclined. We need any help we can get.