All my body wants is to get better.

I have depression with bipolar tendencies and last year I kept lying to mental health professionals about other symptoms because I have these paranoid conspiracies that they are plotting against me. I fear that my other paranoid theory  may be far more valid within rationale: I'm actually lying because my brain doesn't want to get better from whatever is wrong with it. 

Throughout the lot of my depression, I have been often told by others (by those who are not aware of their own emotional ailments) that my suffering is a concious decision that I am making. That through my depression, I am seeking attention from those around me. This is an ableist argument that disregards the severity, and yes I dare say, the necessity of this suffering.

Even if the ableists are right and my suffering of mental illness is my choice, they must feel privileged in thinking that their choice is the natural one. If I am making the choice to be crazy, than so be it. It is my choice to make and you have no clue what fought me here. Everyday there are demons trying to eat my spirit. That is not something I can just get over. 

Capitalism is Dumb Hard

MONEY THAT MUST BE SPENT :

rent..because I need shelter.

February is coming so I will need a bus pass for work. 

I just got my first gas bill. It is January. A warm January, but still January. 

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My paycheck tomorrow will probably be about 400 bucks.

These things, which must be paid for with this pay check, total $410. 

My check will be gone in less than a day and I will not be paid for two more weeks. 

I have 10 bucks in my savings and 6 bucks in my checking. 

Limited access to food and malnourished. It's not always that I don't have any food, but due to disability and lack of funds, what I can manage to eat is literally rotting my body. 

I had SNAP benefits, but because I didn't have money to fax over some paperwork (I DO still qualify), my benefits were taken away. Hopefully I can reapply and have benefits sometime in February. 

I need to eat; I need to eat produce. Every time I buy produce it goes bad and I've wasted my money. 

Right now there is nothing but pasta in my cupboard. Supply is dwindling. 

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This paycheck to paycheck life is mad hard. And I just don't understand why people think I have the ability or power to save money. I can't. 

I rarely go out with friends, I can't travel outside of RI, I can't buy a car, I don't have internet on my phone, I can't buy people nice presents, or lend my mom money, or buy my own cigarettes or support local businesses and/or Black owned businesses or donate to your cause or go see a show. I can't buy books or new undies and bras. Half the time I get my period, I can barely afford to buy pads. 

And we need trash bags, and tin foil and Draino.

THERE IS LITERALLY NOTHING I CAN DO except wait until I get my "big break." I don't know/believe/think if that will ever happen. 

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I survive with help from Jake but my financial dependency is very stressful for the both of us. He allows me to use is car, gives me boges (I now smoke 1-4 cigs a day as opposed to half a pack. Having a very very difficult time quitting but deperately can't afford this habit), and buys the fast food (disability makes it very hard for me to cook regularly).

I was providing groceries and gas money but have been unable to this month after losing my SNAP benefits. Now I feel like a useless waste and we're both hungry all the time. 

Hardened Off

Guess I am just interesting to myself
In a chair
In a corner
But then Steve comes bobbing and ducking into the kitchen.

It's a false hope as he is just making his way to the bathroom
Making his way to the crackers
Like it's nothing cause it's nothing bitch
Still he shows his respect.

All I can do is listen to music
All I want is to look around and notice others watching.

But everyone is in the living room.
Watching reruns.
Watching Will Ferrell and I judge them for knowing the spelling of his name.

The only one who doesn't watch is my love, my Jake-y.
Only because he is sleeping.

Poetry sounds strange without
Helping verbs, without ifs and buts.


I almost want to leave here.
But to be considered less than capable...
I'm too young to be too old,
At least that's what I'm told.
At least that's what I'm told.

To Philly

And I'm off! The train moves fast--an express press pressing its way down through the states. I had panicked back on the track when the train approached. I now understand it was how the Acela train resembles a worm. A worm with speed.

I don't see anyone here who could be going to the Pre-service Orientation. Everyone here has six plus years on me. Maybe I have the wrong idea of what other VISTAS may look like. What should I then look like? Perhaps only myself.

I have very little clue as to how I fit into the working world. Maybe my issue is that I am seperating the "working world" from the world. Thud my self cannot fit into the equation. I could choose otherwise. I could choose to at everything as in within the whole world. I could stop boxing it all up. Nothing ever gets clean that way.