Facbook memories are funny. Today they reminded me that it’s been two years since I moved into my shared supportive housing apartment in Flatbush, Brooklyn with the morbidly overweight man-child that eventually stabbed me. Things weren't always stabby though, there was a lot of optimism in the air on April 14th, 2021
I had so much hope at that time, i was about a year sober and had survived 2020 in a program in Harlem that had set me up with the apartment. It felt like all the work I had done throughout the prior year was paying off, and i finally had a place to call my own. Sure, there was a roommate but everyone in NYC has roommates.
I was starting school for Cisco networking, and looking to get a real career. I was really working on myself, meditating, taking nice long walks in prospect park.
I had a bunch of stimulus money to get myself a few toys, and live nicely.
I had no idea that everything would turn as badly as things could possibly turn, I was so wide eyed and optimistic. Everyone was so happy for me.
This was a few months before I got into blogging, so this little period is not well documented. Maybe ill start patching up my 2020–2021 story, when I'm looking for something to write
I want to take this opportunity to link the story of what the apartment turned into before I was back on the streets in the beginning of 2022:
I guess it took about 4 months for things to go to shit (on the worst drugs there are), and 8 months for it to turn into the darkest period of my entire life… For a little while things were looking up, though, and it’s worth acknowledging that memory.
thanks facebook!
OH YES THE LINK OF LINKS!
I DO NOT HAVE STIMULUS MONEY:
