Still here. Still sober. I’m having trouble keeping it together. Any joy I find seems to be tainted by my suffocating financial burden. I accumulated too much debt while I was out of work. Now, even though I have a full time job, the crap pay isn’t enough to keep my head above water. I’ve had to borrow from my dad and from one on my friends. It’s humiliating.
My apartment is nice but the landlady is difficult to deal with. I jumped through a lot of hoops to get this place and on a regular basis she asks more of me. She’s a very bossy and demanding personality type. I’ve started pushing back but that just makes things even more unpleasant. All my dealings with her leave me angry, frustrated, and used. It’s all the more painful because this could be such an ideal place. But like all things lately, nothing can ever be quite right.
I feel like the butt of some cosmic joke. Each time I think I get a little relief, a little reprieve, a little peace, something fucks it up. It’s like a cup of coffee where you finally get the perfect mix of cream and sugar but before you can take a sip the server dumps in more coffee.
I haven’t prayed since I was a child but I’ve started praying again. I’m not sure to whom or what but I’m throwing it out there anyway. Mostly I pray for protection from myself because every decision I make turns out to be the wrong one. Tonight, I’ll pray again. But I won’t pray for me. I’ve been too selfish. Tonight I’ll pray for my landlady. And I’ll pray for the compassion I need to pray for her. OK, I guess I will pray for me.