I did it.
But, at least I keep my goddamn promises.
The magical $677 is from the apartment and S.O.’s going to pay it (because paying it right this second even though it’s been on his credit for almost a year is SO MUCH MORE important than going to talk to HR about that position… you know the one that’s a $20k raise… that will start our life ACTUALLY together… because priorities, right?)
I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
I feel simultaneously like some albatross combined with weekend fun.
Chore girl, whore girl.
But this time, I guess I’m a horrible human being for costing him $677 from a goddamn apartment that was out of my budget, but he PROMISED he’d move in with me and PROMISED he’d help with even when he WASN’T living there…
I’m irresponsible. Because I lived above my means and relied on someone else to keep their word. I went into debt for this apartment. I sold my engagement ring to pay rent on this apartment. I got a shitty, fucking crazy flakey roommate to pay for this apartment.
But I keep my word.
I don’t know if I want to do this anymore.
Maybe it’s time to tap out.
Been a pretty interesting seven years of absolutely no progression… no living.
Just stuck existing in this goddamn stagnant limbo in between adult hood and prepetual adolescence.
Sometimes, even though I am irreponsible, I still feel like the most adult. The person who is bad with money, but aiight with the rest of life. The person who has endured real and actual hardship and pulled myself up from homelessness to something else better by the bootstraps.
I don’t know anyone else in my immediate peer group who has done that.
Mommy and daddy are awesome safety nets.
Sometimes for me. Sometimes not.
Speaking of parents, guess whose persona el numero uno on their shit list?
My folks came through. My nana refused to let me go without a phone because it’s a safety issue and she got my phone turned back on. My Daddy-O is scraping money out of his budget to help me out.
Daddy-O’s mad that I didn’t tell him sooner. That I just kept it to myself.
Daddy-O’s not mad at me, though.
You know… usually when I have these awful anxiety attacks… kind of like I’m having now… where I can’t rationalize myself out of it because there’s just nothing rational to find purchase on.
I’d take about four benadryl and chill. There’s a long standing relationship between antianxiety meds and antihistamines. Visteril (which I can’t take because it makes me hallucinate) is both a great antihistimine and an antianxiety because it depresses parts of the central nervous system and eases the fight or flight reflex associated with anxiety attacks.
But I can’t take any benadryl because I have to go to the allergist.
So, I’m just going to sit here, be pooky and sad for myself, and claw my skin off because everything itches and sneezes.
I might put on some Rob Zombie, Rammstein, Manson, or some Death Punch and angry clean.
E — all of the above.