02/16/2011

I keep adding to the auto saved journal entry that I never publish. 

I am laying in bed, so broke that I am trying to look around the room and locate things that I could sell so that I don’t have to dip into my student line of credit. So broke and you’ve been out of work for two months. I can’t say anything because it will only make you feel bad. What’s to say anyway?

It was one of those days where you just want to give up. A bad mark, coupled with a bad couple of days leaves me a crying slobbering sobbing mess. When she says is there anything I can do I want to say, "take care of me. let me stay home and bake cookies and wear aprons and make lunches. let me be a little house wife with little house wife problems like no one appreciates my meatloaf, my ankles are swollen."  

You, unemployed and me at school leaves us pulled to the brink of no money.

I’ve been lucky, I’ve never been so broke before. I know I’ve gotten by on a very small pittance, but this, this is ridiculous. There is no way to stretch this to make it enough. I hate debt. It reminds me of being a little kid. It reminds me how my mum would write cheques for rent and my dad would go and take money out of the account and then mum’s would bounce and dad would say, but there was cash so I thought it was okay.

Why is it that when you’re grumpy about one thing everything else starts coming out at you.

Like,
why haven’t you told your parents about me?
don’t they ever wonder where you’ve been for months and months?
don’t you want to share me with them if I make you so happy?

I want a disclaimer. I want to explain better.

Sometimes, things just don’t fit together like they do inside your head.