I only write when I am unhappy. But I am unhappy most of the time, so I should write more. I can't do anything consistently. Esp my blog because it's something I have to actually do, content I have to create myself. so hard!!
The past week hasn't been the worst, so that's good. I have to convince myself that living in this shit town is temporary. I might be freaked out so hard because I am scared I am stuck here forever, and then I would really want to die. But I don't have to give up yet! It's not the end of my life yet! I have this stupid punk rock fantasy of living in a gross apt in a downtown with band posters on the walls and it dosen't matter if it's dirty, it's supposed to. But I am in my late twenties, is that ok anymore? My husband used to feel this way too. When did he change? When he start wanting this suburban middle class bland lifestyle. Why didn't I realize this until it was too late? He has a spiderweb tatt on his head, but you can't tell anymore, because he has a "good job" now. Maybe the thing that is making me so sad is that it's kinda my fault. I agreed to move here, I agreed to sign the loan papers and everything. Basically our apt had hella mold and I was having asthma problems because of the mold. I would wakeup multiple times a night coughing, fighting for air. It was dumb and I was desperate to get out of the awful medical nightmare. So I gave in, that's why it's my fault I am here. He would have never gotten me outta there if there was no mold. Even the shitty neighbors weren't enough. Even the rising crime wasn't enough.
I have to think of this as I am preparing for where we are going to move next. I can figure it out over the next year. (we are contractually obligated to stay for 12 months in the house before renting or selling)
I just have to keep optimistic, visit friends whenever I can, not be here, cuz it sucks!
When I get really depressed during the week I don't wanna go anywhere. No motivation, I just think "who cares" and "what's the point."
Get over myself and get the fuck out of this horrible house and this horrible town.
The past week hasn't been the worst, so that's good. I have to convince myself that living in this shit town is temporary. I might be freaked out so hard because I am scared I am stuck here forever, and then I would really want to die. But I don't have to give up yet! It's not the end of my life yet! I have this stupid punk rock fantasy of living in a gross apt in a downtown with band posters on the walls and it dosen't matter if it's dirty, it's supposed to. But I am in my late twenties, is that ok anymore? My husband used to feel this way too. When did he change? When he start wanting this suburban middle class bland lifestyle. Why didn't I realize this until it was too late? He has a spiderweb tatt on his head, but you can't tell anymore, because he has a "good job" now. Maybe the thing that is making me so sad is that it's kinda my fault. I agreed to move here, I agreed to sign the loan papers and everything. Basically our apt had hella mold and I was having asthma problems because of the mold. I would wakeup multiple times a night coughing, fighting for air. It was dumb and I was desperate to get out of the awful medical nightmare. So I gave in, that's why it's my fault I am here. He would have never gotten me outta there if there was no mold. Even the shitty neighbors weren't enough. Even the rising crime wasn't enough.
I have to think of this as I am preparing for where we are going to move next. I can figure it out over the next year. (we are contractually obligated to stay for 12 months in the house before renting or selling)
I just have to keep optimistic, visit friends whenever I can, not be here, cuz it sucks!
When I get really depressed during the week I don't wanna go anywhere. No motivation, I just think "who cares" and "what's the point."
Get over myself and get the fuck out of this horrible house and this horrible town.
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