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mina42_
https://www.instagram.com/p/BkJl6mIngT-
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Help me afford college
I donât know who will see this, but my name is Jacara and I am an incoming freshman student. I am supposed to start college August 27th, however before we start classes, I need to pay the college 4,800 by August 17th. Right now Iâm being charged for out of state tuition because I havenât finished residency due to some complications, but when it drops to around 1200-1300, I will be sure to update you guys. I know this is extremely late to try and raise now, but that is entirely my fault and I take full blame for myself if Iâm not able to attend college fall term. Please donate whatever you can, even if itâs $1, any progress, is progress.
Www.gofundme.com/helpjacaraout
https://www.instagram.com/p/Ba_6A7FlRj_/
(180204) joy - bad boy
https://www.instagram.com/p/BSLMR57l89h/
Neon Light Installations, Peter Kennedy, Museum of Contemporary Art, Sydney
Neon lights, Brooklyn Museum of Art_2342 by wordly images on Flickr.
aesthetic moodboard // haley for @thepastelpinkwitch
archive moodboard for @neptumus
https://www.instagram.com/p/Bfuq8v9hc7g/
pink/purple neon moodboard
https://www.instagram.com/p/Bj2Nb2rHlDc/
By fourteen I had severe depression, anxiety, acid reflux, iron deficiency anemia, and fibromyalgia (anemia and fibro only diagnosed at 19). My mom never appreciated moochers, âwelfare queensâ, or people with dietary restrictions, and would scream if I did not eat her acidic food that caused me pain and cancer risk. She sank all our money and my college savings into a failing restaurant she made me work as much as was legal at, because I could be paid under minimum wage as a 14 year old family member.
Shortly after high school 1. I quit a cashier job after a week because of unbearable undiagnosed fibro pain 2. we moved from Washington, where we could no longer afford to live, to central Maine, where my mom and brother began resenting me more and more for my increasingly failing body and inability to work. I eventually started getting betting better with medications and therapy, and completed two college courses through an employee dependent tuition waiver, and had an extremely undemanding job managing a branch of the collegeâs rarely-used social media.
After an endoscopy (in which they diagnosed a length of pre-cancerous tissue that would be disproven with a later biopsy?) my reflux got drastically worse rendering me unable to swallow easily or take pills. No longer on antacids or pain meds, everything hurt all the time, especially when it got stuck and burned in. My mom still refused to change what she fed me until she offered what she thought was a compromise: I start making dinner every day instead of her. I couldnât, with my health, but I said I could feed myself, at least, and she wouldnât have to. She told me to leave.
My partnerâs parents in West Virginia had been offering I live with them, when they heard what my mom was doing to me, so when I was kicked out I moved in there. Suffering severe, unmedicated depression, anxiety, anemia, and fibromyalgia, I am unable to do much. I was prescribed dissolving reflux meds right before I left, and they make good food, so I am okay in that regard, but they are beginning to resent me and what they think is me controlling their child. When Zach, my partner, wouldnât put his mom in control of his new bank account, she made us sob in the car home, and said she would never do anything for us again, including drive me to get my meds. His parents blamed me for being kinder to Zach than they were. They think Iâm a welfare queen, trying to steal his and their money. Iâve tried so hard to repay their hospitality with what little I can do, but it wasnât enough. Iâm supposed to be moving in with his sister in two weeks, in the town he will then be going to college in. If I am not kicked out early. My anxiety is afraid of the same thing happening again and again, and I havenât been able to make any progress on fixing my throat because of long appointment waiting periods, lack of transport, lack of information, and not being here for more than two months. For these same reasons I have not been able to get medicaid or disability even started in processing. I have a total of a hundred dollars available to me after a week of begging online, and that will pay for two specialist consultations and nothing further, no food, no procedures, no medications, no cat food, no clothes, no hospitality-securing-rent, nothing. In two weeks I am going to be alone, without my partner, and without my cat, who I will probably have to leave with his parents (or else have to pay an exorbitant fee for).
I am so fucking afraid. I am unable to work aside from low-price art commissions. I have no substantial or guaranteed income. I have no fallback. I have no medications. I donât have a working throat. I am afraid of having no value. I am afraid of being kicked out of everywhere I go because of resource intensivity and uselessness.
Everything takes a long time to do, but I still need money for when it happens. I want to be able to get to a place, mentally, physically, where I am no longer in pain, and no longer afraid. I wonât be able to on my own.
paypal.me/jazzper
please read
im spencer, a 19 year old trans lesbian with type 1 diabetes. i really hate doing this but after a mixup with my insurance my family and i were recently billed around $2300 for my insulin with no easy way to pay for it and now we need help. i just got fired from my job and ill need some time to find another one.
you can help us out by donating here or reblogging this post. anything at all helps. thank you.