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2019-06-15 - 1:38 am

Dear readers-

If you notice that the time is about one in the morning, there's a good reason for that: I can't sleep.

I have been living here for three months now. I don't like it here. When my mom and I left Riviera Beach, it was with the hope we'd never go back. For what other reason would we break a two-year lease within the year for. Now, in retrospect, I wonder if doing that was one of the reasons we had trouble finding a place to live afterwards.

My roommates are nice, they're quiet, and other than a few minor issues, have no flaws that I can see. But I don't like it here all the same. Apparently the landlady has a whole empire of, I suppose you call them, rentals for the needy, with this place being one of them.

I've come to realize I don't like living with other people. I don't like having to relegate my scant possessions to a small room. I don't like sharing a fridge with five other people (ok, four, now that Caretaker Lisa is gone). I don't want to have to keep all my non-perishable things in a small corner of the kitchen cabinet, my plates in my room for extra room. I don't want to have to make the tough decision of what's more important: eating, having phone service, or ensuring that the possessions I wasn't physically able to take with me are in a safe place.

It bothers me that, at some point, I'm going to have to abandon some things if I'm forced to leave, things I've acquired over the years, or start to liquidate them on eBay for cash money.

I'm pissed at the fact that I can't seem to find a job, even at McDonald's because of my lack of high school diploma or GED (btw, it's a fucking *food service job*, for what reason do I need that?!) and that it's taking so long for them to get back on whether I have that fucking retail job, but, in the meantime, I can't afford to go to job interviews, because for reasons unknown, the right back tire of my bike keeps deflating and I can't afford to fix it, nor can I afford to take a bus to go outside of my city for the interview

I'm pissed at having to rely on food stamps, basically at the mercy of a government institution that decides, without having met me, that I'm cheating the system, thus makes it difficult as possible for me to buy my own food, forcing me to either be a tremendous pest to get food or rely on the fucking food banks. You know what sucks about food banks? You're basically at the mercy of some asshole you've never met who decided to clean out his pantry on what you eat.

I don't like having to go to Cafe Joshua, their "soup kitchen" (they serve more than soup, but still) for lunch on the weekday, sharing a table with three other people and hear their inane conversations. I especially don't like having to walk to that place now that my bike is out of commission, yet again.

I'm tired of visiting mom in the hospital every Sunday. I only do it because I know if I don't, she'll bitch about it

I still miss Midnight. I hope he's doing ok.

Rant over.

-psyche

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