i’m so tired of living with inconsistencies. i feel the anxiety every time summer comes to an end… my intuitive spirit picks up on all the loose odds and ends. i felt more happy when i was hosting for $12/hr because i was surrounded by so many friends. i finally make friends at a school and they get ripped away because i was too sick to come to school, but only for a few days. there’s 180 days in a school year, and if you miss a week, in retrospect, it’s a joke. 7/180 days…. but, your kids knew you had depression. they knew you nearly died. they knew you were hospitalized the year before when you turned septic and SHOULD be dead.
i wish i were. and i’ll probably always regret having my ex rush me to the hospital instead of waking up somewhere other than this ugly world. my heart surrenders. my stomach always burns in response to nerves or disease. you don’t get to speak when you have sickness. it’s not acceptable to be sick because you’re just a replaceable, obsolete agent.
i just want to find a place that’s home.
i have to find a place that’s home, or i’m not going to make it much further.
