But the couple who makes the floor shake are fucking in the room next to the only bathroom. This is round 2. 

Round 1 was ongoing as I introduced the new room mate to this house. He’s moving in today. So just. Imagine as I apologize for the spring break induced mess, squeaky asian girl is wailing upstairs…

It’s okay now. I pooped. :) 

“I JUST WANT A FUCKING SHOWER” Says I.
“Would you like a beer instead?” Says Victor.
“Yes.”

I have been very happy for almost a year now. Around 2 years ago I was working and going to college and on the brink of suicide each day. Darkest, hopeless despairblahblah. Started taking birth control, blissful simple contentedness became my life. Which is the result of a hormone imbalance.(continued) 

In that time in my life, my psychosis grew to the extent of having voices encouraging my suicide/self-hatred. I was in disbelief when I came out of it. And was nearly completely rid of my eating disorder. Now because of a combination of living a nearly homeless and broke life, and trading to a worse health insurance, I am again without birth control. 

It’s been a slow decent into deep depression, was actually caught off guard. I’d forgotten what it felt like. Once again in a stressful low-income situation, not going to college, working at a job where I am the only white person in a large chain of stores. Where I am yelled at and called stupid because of a language barrier. I am also being sexually harassed. I’m beginning to disassociate. And there begins the crazy.

There are no jobs. No one is calling me. I am a person who gets hired on the spot. This pathetic little creep and this job have broken me so severely. Finally not homeless anymore and I want this life so badly… 

Feel a lot better having written this down. And here comes the part where I decide to actually post this. I wasn’t, and now I’ll probly go for it. Yippy. Oversharing is so in, right?

Out of depression for a whole week. First job interview in 4 months… ‘WHOOPS. THA HELL DOES LIFE THINK ITS DOIN? BEST BALANCE OUT ALL THIS PROSPERITY.’

My 10 hr/week job called to casually tell that me I don’t seem to be on the schedule this week. MADE A SAME-DAY APPT TO SELL MY PLASMA FOR $75. My veins are too small. (Most likely from past self-harm)

Depression springing back into action,
Lying awake until 6:30. Hopeless.
Someone pay me for something?
I’m as desperate as can be..