Today, I was at work. Now I am home from work, and pretty overcaffeinated. Usually, I get home and just go to sleep so I can wake up and do it again. I guess I’ll tap away at this keyboard a bit.
I just feel bad because I texted everyone in the world saying that I just want to go back to Boston because I miss all of my people. I do miss all of my people; I miss them dearly. But I don’t want to go back to Boston. The problem with Boston is I’m just going to go there with myself. I’m already in New York with myself, and at least it’s New York.
I just stop and look at life sometimes, like “What the fuck am I doing in New York?” and “I have nobody.”
My time at this great program I’ve been in is wrapping up, and while I’m glad I came here, their people really messed up my supportive housing document by leaving out the fact that I have a lifelong history of mental illness and that my only issue is drug abuse. This qualifies me for a lot less than I would be if my paperwork was accurate. I’m stressing because I have nowhere to go in 2 months. Obviously, it’s going to work out somehow, even if I go to a transitional program, and I’m not going to end up back on the street. Obviously, right? I mean, it doesn’t feel obvious when I get in my head and stress out, and I miss everyone.
I just want to feel like I’m home somewhere and feel some togetherness with some humans. That’s all I want; that’s all I’ve ever wanted. There are people in Boston, but there’s nothing for me otherwise, and I couldn’t get a cheesesteak or ride the subway after 2 am.
I just forget who I am and how strong I am. I’ve been through so much; go read about it:
