Monday, December 22, 2003

Well, it *feels* like it's my fault.

There have been a few moments where I thought everything was going to be okay, but there have been a lot more moments when I've realized that it's not. I don't know, what do you do when you've brought home a combined income of $1800 for the most expensive month of the year, and $750 goes to the mortgage, and the rest doesn't even cover your bills, and you've got to somehow also cover the holiday costs, and then you come home from work to find men on your roof doing an emergency repair that costs $497? You do the math, because I'm damn sick of it. It can't all be taken care of, at least not by me.

And it's not that we haven't been broke before, we've probably been more impoverished. But poverty in grad school doesn't feel this way. At least when you're in school you can tell yourself it's temporary, that you'll finish up one day and get a job and everything will be just fine. It feels like a choice when you're still in school. What happens when you're done with grad school and there's no longer any sort of choice involved? I'll tell you what happens--the suckiness that is my life.

I'm can't get in my car for fear that I'll drive off and never come home. Or possibly more likely, that I'll put both it and me on the bottom of Lake Monroe. I can't stay home, because I just sit here and relive every bad decision I've made in the last two years, which makes me want more and more to really find a way to be at the bottom Lake Monroe. Can't go, can't stay. Can't do anything, and it's driving me fucking insane.

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