money, choices and life decisions

So money's tight. Again. And again.

Shit.

I've been applying for all kinds of jobs in hopes that something will open up for me. What else can I do, roll up and die?

Next week is another week. I work next week a three day possibly four day stint. I have to look at this as positive and just keep putting one foot in front of the other.

A part of me knows I'm not alone, and I want to continue to be as supportive of others as they have been to me. I keep wanting to hear more good thoughts and good news.

Haven't been sleeping well. Breaking nights for over a week. I know it's because I'm worrying over the finances. I have to continue to take one step at a time and not falter, not look down just straight ahead.

honesty and cash flow

Broke night. Watched the sun rise. Again. I should be grateful I'm getting to see these as I'm not up to see the sun come up very often. It's during times like a sunrise or sunset where one ponders one's humanity, their success and failings, frailty, and beauty.

However, it also means one's awareness is not very sharp and I walked around today in a bit of a fog. I was hungry but did not really register the food except for the tangy sharpness of the ketchup as T and I finished brunch today after T's doctor's appointment.

T handed me two twenty dollar bills along with the bill that had been written up by the waiter and walked out of the place to wait for me. There was a little line, with two people ahead of me and the cashier was nowhere to be seen. After a minute, she came forward and collected from one, then as she counted the money, I could see she was rushed. The other lady who was waiting said, "Oh, you can go ahead," and I said, "I am waiting until she is done with this prior order," as the woman was still doublechecking the money in her drawer before closing it after giving the other customer their change. The other lady said she had to pay with a credit card which is why she was telling me to go ahead.

Then the cashier took my bill and the two twenty dollar bills, peered at the bill, then went to count out change. She handed it back to me, and I proceeded to give a $5.00 bill to the waiter and then walk out with two bills and some change and handed it to T. Turns out later the bills were one dollar bills each and I had been shortchanged $10.00.

We came home and then shortly thereafter I finally went to sleep. When I awoke around 6:10-6:15 from my nap, I was immediately told of the missing change from T. Luckily I had grabbed a menu on the way out so we had the number to the place. I called, and T walked out, and muttered that never mind we'll probably never see the money again. For $10.00, the cashier would know if the till was over, I countered, and let the phone ring.

After speaking briefly to a man there, I asked to speak to the lady cashier. I asked if she was there working around 1 pm to 2 pm today. She immediately got on and admitted she was the only one who worked the register today. I gave her my name and explained about the $10.00 and she stated that she did not handled the counting out of the drawer, that the owner did, and that she didn't know if the owner had counted out or not as she was not sure of the times when it was done. I asked for hers and she didn't give it. She did state she was the only one who handled the drawer.

She stated I could call back tomorrow. I asked if I could leave my name and number and when the drawer was counted, if it was over $10.00 could they call me. She then mentioned about the manager being there, and I patiently waited for her to finish her thought as english was not her first language. I asked if I could speak to the manager if the manager was there now. She paused, then said OK. She also added that this was the first call for today, that there had been no one else calling about the overage and no other complaints. That didn't assure me too much.

The manager got on after I heard her briefly explain the situation in another language. Then he got on, I greeted him with hello he answered hello back. I asked if he was the manager and he said yes. I asked his name and he said Angelo. I gave him my name and proceeded to tell him my story and about the till possibly being $10.00 over. He listened, then said the register had already been counted out at 3. I asked 3 in the morning or in the afternoon? He responded 3 pm today. So I said "then you can tell me if the till is over." He said yes. So I asked if it was, and he didn't answer straight away. He instead said I could come over tomorrow morning around 9 (which T reminded me would be their busiest time) and talk to another manager named Alex who would be there to help settle the matter.

I went, OK, and then said, "could I leave my name and number and have Alex call me tomorrow to see if the money's there for sure instead of me making a trip out there?" And Angel assured me that I should just come by, no worries. I said, OK, although that was all weird about his not really answering the question of whether the till was over or not.

So I said OK and we said goodbye and hung up. I went to look for T who had since disappeared during the five to ten minute conversation. I took down the names of Angel and Alex onto the menu I had of theirs and wanted to share the news. T was nowhere to be found. I went back to my room and texted a "hey where are you?" kind of a text. Three minutes later, I heard the front door unlock and T and my dog sauntered in.

I quickly gave T the update and T had no confidence we would get the money back and said to let it drop. I countered that it is $10.00 not a dollar, and that the owner wouldn't have insisted on my coming by just on the off chance the money may or may not be there. The money was there, and the manager probably wanted to downplay it without saying outright they screwed up. "I asked him if I could leave my name and number and have Alex call me back so I wouldn't have to take a trip over there, and Angel said it's OK that Alex would take care of it, so that tells me that they probably just want to doublecheck it by checking me out to see if I'm legit or not. The lady cashier who was the only one there and our waiter may remember me, so...(I'm sure the trip will not be in vain)."

T expressed doubt, but the conversation was finished. I will take the walk tomorrow morning since I'll most likely be awake. I've broken night several times. I just pray I can be more focused and the conversation is positive.

Rain rain

The weather has decided to go schizo and vary from raining hard to sunshine then darkening and rain again in a matter of two hours time.

Went to a gathering where there was free food and drink. Got some business cards but doubt if they'll remember me as they were given when they were pretty smashed.

Tomorrow is another day.

ten minutes

I've always said that I'm not afraid of death. Only how I was going to die -- I did not want it to hurt or be violent. Perhaps curiosity. The notion that I no longer have to deal with the day in day out of "does the casting director or cute man across the room like me?" and paying bills. Growing old, dealing with the grey hairs and wrinkles and the creaking and cracking of bones that some of us get rewarded with after decades of living inside our bodies.

I missed by ten minutes someone being attacked/mugged. It didn't go well, and there was a blood curdling scream. In ten minutes a woman got beaten then stabbed. As I approached the building, there were several cops around along with the building security and several neighbors huddled amongst themselves according to clique.

As I rode the elevator, I realized there was blood spatter on the elevator walls and drops of blood on the floor. I pointed them out to T and T was horrified. I wanted to distance myself, as if it were an episode of CSI, blood spatter, blood drops. I imagined the woman was not attacked on her floor but in the elevator. How others heard the screams from so many floors up kind of surprised me.

I've seen a person killed in front of me. You think at first that you are watching an episode or something on television. Your brain tells you this is not real. You don't want to think or believe it is real. I advised T that someone has to clean down the elevator. T recoiled. Me, not so much. The danger had passed. This was just what was left. The worst part had been taken away, taken off or removed.

Maybe it will come to me full force later. I don't know. I just know there were some lookee-loos, but I want to know, who came immediately to help, not to be nosy?

tough day

Today was a tough day. I had absolutely no energy. I can't imagine going anywhere or doing anything. It's going on 6 pm.

Meanwhile my garden looks absolutely fantastic, green and lush and wonderful. Is it a reflection of my life? I don't know. I'm not unhappy but I'm not happy either. But I am contributing to the world, so that has me satisfied. I just want to get myself on the right track and not give up hope.

Survival

When I think about where I'm going or what I'm doing or how the hell did I get here, it can be dizzying. Or upsetting. Or I have moments of wonderment and awe, depending on where my grit and tenacity levels are. I got things done simply by ignoring the laughing and pushed past the bullshit to get what I needed and get where I had to go. The gumption hasn't been there in a while and now I'm trying to find it within me yet again.

I listen to the daily horoscopes, done in spanish, and try to translate for funsies or have a friend translate for me so I get the fullest meaning possible.

My worry is that I will not outrun the darkness. I like the light, I love the sun. The energy. Sometimes I wonder how much fight I have left in me. I worry about money and about my luck and health. Then I feel a little nudge, and a little pep enters my step. "Hey, luck is coming your way," I hear a whisper, clear as a bell. Is that my inner voice or outer angel?

Vaya con dios.

We all wrestle with the angel or with ourselves. And there are times we win and surprise ourselves. We gain strength and confidence to move forward each passing day. I just put one foot in front of the other as I watch others lose balance and fall. I try to help where I can but I realize I need all the help I can get.

And another loses the battle.

Dreams and family relations

Yesterday my sister popped into my head. The one I called a sister, even though techincally we were not blood related. But I found that a very minor insignificant point. She did not, however. And there was a deliberateness to her separating.

We haven't spoken to each other in over a year simply because she cannot come clean with her sneaky actions. She and I had a falling out because I knew she was not being truthful and was deliberately interrupting people's lives over it. She chose to have her girlcrush intact as opposed to realizing she needed to wake the fuck up and live the life she chose and created. She did not have a gun pointed at her head but wants to have her cake and eat it too like the spoiled five year old she is.

To say I am still very annoyed and angry about her soap opera games is putting it mildly. The disappointment in me screams. Yet from time to time, she will pop in my head, and I miss her. And that just makes me more angry. Because she did this to herself and was willing to throw me under the bus for some stupid fantasy.

So this morning I awoke to a dream where I saw my godchild and realized how tall she'd gotten. She still looked the same, but had gotten taller and we were sitting at my mother's house. Somehow T and C got to visit her and bring her to visit me. It was like, my sister trusted them to bring my godchild to me. I found that rather odd.

All I kept thinking was how big she'd gotten. I was in awe mixed with a bit of sadness.

Then I was at some bus stop, had reached a destination and finished my visitation and needed to get on another bus to go home and went to buy my ticket and find my bus. Then I woke up. Interesting.

Mantra

Repeat to myself: I do not work for free. I volunteer for what I want to work with or on. But I do not work for free.

Hating ones self equals no kind of real love

The shingle is out, the advice is free. What more can one ask for?

Today I am addressing the woe is me. Especially when it comes to the subject of love and telling the truth. The problem is, most people demand it but can't really handle it. The truth can hurt, it can sting, it can destroy a person's fragile self-esteem. Now mix a demand for the truth with someone whose ego clearly hinges on what you will or will not say and you know you are damned either way. The issue then becomes, do you let them go down in flames alone or have them take you with them?

Hence why a lot of people simply won't discuss further why things aren't working out or are no longer viable. Times change, people change. What was fine six months or a year ago isn't going to work now. Yet some people are not willing to change or want things to stay the same. They forget to communicate or lull themselves into a false sense of security. The thing is -- security is an illusion. We are human, we are alive, and things must move forward or die.

The dying part scares every single person out there.

Today was the post that got me, why someone hates their true self. I found this very telling.

If you hate yourself or certain parts of yourself that are part of your 'true self' - how do you expect others to be attracted or stay attracted to you? "Why can't you tell me the truth?" demands this hurt soul, positioning themselves as someone who is truthful and wants it from others....yet clearly can't see that they don't. No one wants to lower the boom on anyone, unless they've got a natural mean streak in them.

In the end, a lot of people simply just want to walk away and move on, the less damaging things said the better. The explanation is going to hurt, and sometimes there is no explanation, no simple one anyway. It's just that things change, people change, and that means it's time to move on. Yet for these simple poetic souls, they want closure, they want an explanation, they want it to be more complex than it needs to be. "What's wrong with me?" they wail. There may be nothing wrong.

However, you cannot control whether another person stays or goes. That is their decision to make. Communication is key, definitely. But in the end, both have to be willing to communicate and listen to the other and want to work at it.

I think of my past experiences. And each one, whether painful, embarrassing, long or short, were valuable learning lessons. I learned what I would accept and not accept, I learned where my limits were, and learned to create boundaries, and how to better communicate with a guy. I learned what guys were not worth a second glance and to trust my gut more. I learned what questions to ask, learned how to observe, and enjoy flirting. I learned what it was like to be left and to leave another. Both are unpleasant. Anyone who says otherwise is a fool or a liar.

I no longer apologize for being a female and for using my feminine wiles. I am sick and tired of having to choose between two roles, the madonna and the whore. I have simply decided to be me and learned to be happy with me. There is no one else on earth like me and there will never be another. Time is short and I must use my time wisely, not waste it wondering on what I can't control. And that is something I treasure.

There may be more to this post so I'll post it now and revise as I get more inspired.

write write write awayyyyyyy

Humming to myself, listening to the smart little clicks of the keyboard as I type this.

Let me tell you a little about my present. After living on my own for several years, I found myself getting kind of lonely. I had short-term boyfriends, I had flings, but nothing permanent. The minute they found I had my own place they were looking to find any excuse to stretch themselves onto my couch and peruse my CD collection and fridge. The worst part was having them decide it was alright for them to answer my phone, when I had an answering service to handle any calls when I wasn't home.

So yes, I was stupid to let them stay there if I had to leave. Sometimes, I just didn't have time to wait and watch them drag their ass as they took their time getting ready to go, even though they knew the day before that if they were to stay over, they had to be out by such and such time. They never made the fucking deadline.

Of course, once or two times, I would let them slide, and that, unfortunately, would be enough for them to find a way to get out of my good graces. For example, picking up my phone when it rung. They don't live or pay rent there, but for some reason that didn't bother them much and they wanted to pick up the phone. Of course I took this as a sign of aggression, rather, passive agressiveness, as I usually avoided dating stupid men who can't follow simple verbal instructions.

"If you're going to stay here today, please don't pick up my phone, I have an answering machine for that, thanks." "What if you call?" would be the bright person's answer. "You know my job number. See the caller ID window? If my number shows up, you can pick up, otherwise, don't pick up. Thanks. See you later."

Then of course I'd get home and the man would be stupid enough to tell me, "You got a couple of hang-ups on your phone." "I did?" I would ask, surprised. "Yeah, I picked up and then the person asked for you, some guy, and I told him no, and he hung up." Then he would look at me expectantly. I would then reiterate what they just told me, walking through my logic, "So....you heard the phone ring, you looked at the caller ID, and you picked it up anyway?" "Yeah," said the guy, feeling totally justified in picking it up because a male voice was on the other line. He had no idea that he was pulling a drama scene in MY fucking house when I didn't want him there in the first place. I checked the number. It was my brother calling. Okay jealous fuck, I thought to myself, you disregard what I ask, then I shall bring you pain.

I turned to face the asshole who is noticing how calm I am at the moment and then notices like a frightened dog that picks up the incoming storm, the atmosphere has suddenly changed and is charged. I took a pause, considering, before beginning my tirade. "I'm trying to understand why you picked up the phone when I told you not to -- do you have a learning disability or a hearing problem?"

"No, I don't have either one," he would say, "I just wanna know who was that calling." "Really? How is that any of your business here? Do you live here, do you pay rent here? Are we serious in a relationship here for you to be getting in my business?" "Your business?" he would ask, trying to get his gumption up. "Yes, my business. I want to know. I do you a solid by letting you stay here even though I told you I had to head out early and you drag your ass. I trusted you to stay here while I was gone. So you must've had some party while I was gone. You betrayed my trust." "Woman, I betrayed nobody. Why can't you just tell me who was on the phone?" "You picked up the phone asshole -- why didn't you ask then? Boy, some message taker you are!" I laughed.

"It's not funny," he said. "It's none of your business and you still fucked up by picking up the fucking phone in the first place. If I tell you to jump out a window will you do it too?" I was disgusted. "I trusted you, I let you stay in my house, my domain, and the first thing you do is the exact opposite of what I told you. I didn't ask for much, I didn't ask for blood or for your chastity. Would you be happy if I did this in your house when you are out? You need to go."

"What the fuck? Are you crazy?" he asked. "Crazy for letting you stay here against my better judgement. Oh, by the way, that was my brother." I picked up the phone and dialed the number. "Hey, bro, what's up? I have a guest here, he wants to talk to you, hold on." And I handed the phone over. He was flabbergasted but took the phone. "Hey....what's up. (pause) Nah, I'm just a friend, hanging at your sis' place. Yeah. (pause) Naw, it's all good. Well, it was good talking to you, I'm gonna give the phone back to your sister. Bye." And he hands the phone back.

"Yeah, bro, what's up?" I took the phone back and continued to talk to my brother, "Is everything OK at home?" "Yeah," laughed my brother over the phone, "Who the hell is that in your house and why am I talking to him?" "Oh, he didn't believe that you were my brother calling, so I had to settle that." "You gonna continue dating him?" "What do you think?" I countered. "Poor guy, what an idiot." "Well, he shot himself in the foot, he's only got himself to blame." "Has he apologized?" "Sadly no, but I'm not surprised. Anyway, gotta go, you sure all's well?" "I was wondering if I could borrow some money for a Metrocard." "When do you need it?" "I could swing by tomorrow at your job, around lunchtime." "Come by around 3 pm, that's when everyone's lunch is over and I can come down real quick and give you the card then." "Thanks sis." "You're welcome, see you tomorrow at 3 pm." "Okay, bye - love ya." "Love ya, bye." We hung up.

I go out to the living room to see sheepish boyfriend cowering on the sofa. "Baby," he starts, all soft and low in what he hopes is a sexy apologetic tone. "Well, you got your evidence. Realize that is the first and last time you are staying here ever." "Baby don't be like that, why do you have to be so drastic?" "Because you poked your nose where it didn't belong, sweetheart." I realized my voice was calm, gentle even. I made my boundary clear and he deliberately crossed it anyway. My mind was clear. I wasn't attached emotionally to this motherfucker. Making decisions like this were never hard for me. You fuck up once on a minor detail, how could I trust you on a major one? Nope, this boy would not do. A real man doesn't play games like this.

How come every guy that has tried this thinks he's going to honestly get over? I would shake my head sadly and say, "Nope, this just won't do." "You never had feelings for me, you probably had someone on the side anyway," he would say. "You fucked up, you took that chance, so now you have to face the consequences. You must have me mistaken for a fool. Take your shit and get out." He would leave, but would think it was just for me to cool off. Then he'd call, and...I had caller ID. I would pick up once and ask him to never call this number again, that we were over.

This only further inspired him to call more, to insist that he had something magical to say that would change my mind. "Look, I made a mistake," he would say, and I would simply listen. "We all make mistakes. And I'm sorry, I am so so sorry." "I accept your apology. But I don't want to see you again, I hope I am making myself clear to you." I would answer. "But why do you have to be like that?" he would plead. Because he knew he had it good. A woman who worked a full time job and supported herself, had her own place and no extra baggage to tie her down. A woman who avoided any kind of stress if she could help it and simply wanted a quiet nice life. And this motherfucker was determined to add stress to it and that was not going to happen as far as I was concerned.

"I was serious about what I told you before and you refuse to listen. I picked up the phone out of courtesy and I hope you will show me the same courtesy by not calling here again or I will consider that harassment and call the cops. Now leave me alone. Goodbye and have a nice life." And I hung up. Several repeat phone calls and then .... the visit at my door, looking all bedraggled, trying to plead their case. I would listen, then say to them that I heard them out and they did not change my mind, that the issue was settled. "It can't be!" they cried.

"Why, because you didn't end it first?" I asked, "I didn't cause this, you did. I don't have time for the theatrics. I need to trust the person I'm with and for this one small thing you couldn't handle it. So goodbye. Don't waste my fucking time. GET OUT and don't come back ever!" At this point my patience was gone. Only a threat to call the cops would get them going, because my merely telling them it was over and showing them I wanted nothing to do with them was not enough for these dim witted bulbs.

Thus I decided that living alone, while a lovely thing to experience, was also becoming quite tiresome. I craved stability, coming home to a home-cooked meal, instead of four walls and an elderly cat I inherited from my sister who dumped the cat on my doorstep when her soon to be hubby issued an ultimatum that the cat had to go if they were to marry. P.S. a year to the day of the marriage, divorce papers were served on the cat-hater asshole but that's another story to tell another day.

Once the cat died (and my dog died too) I decided that living alone was no longer working for me. My brother had become a liability with constantly losing jobs and crashing at my house when our mother was fed up with his laziness. I had no idea if he was on drugs and told him if he ever was he would not be allowed in my home. I had been coerced into taking him, really forced, because my mother asked me for a favor to store some of his belongings until she could situate him and he was going to take some clothing and just stay at her house for the time being. Little by little I saw him more and more stinking up my couch and playing video games til all hours and sleeping if not pawing around for food eating me out of house and home....yet he never seemed to smell when the kitty litter needed changing or the cat needed to be fed.

Tired of his b.s., I got the opportunity to move into a friend's cousin's place. The problem was I would be staying with their family and storing up all my shit into one room. Lucky I didn't have a lot of furniture but I did have bedroom furniture that I had to squeeze in. So the Aunt, we'll call her the Aunt, had immediately started eyeing my furniture, and asked if it had been given to me. I stated I bought every piece. And proudly, I thought. These were my first real purchases as a grown-up and I bought with value and quality in mind. This furniture had to last me and couldn't be cheapie IKEA crap.

The best part was I was staying in 'the city' so that meant easy transportation, I could get to work easy, like in twenty minutes as opposed to an hour and a half, and I would just chip in for my portion of the rent. After a while, I realized Auntie was a bit off her rocker and deliberately ignored doctor's orders and skipped her meds, some of which were to keep her behavior steady (anti-psychotic pills). Of course none of this was mentioned to me before moving in, so it's been such a...how shall I put it, a barrel of laughs and surprises every week as to what is crazy ol' Auntie going to pull next?

In the beginning of adulthood

Once upon a time, I was a young girl just trying to get by. My dream was to get out from under my parents' thumb and get my own place, because getting my own place meant freedom. When I was 17, I moved away for the first time. I barely scraped enough money to pay the first month's rent and security. I handed over my hard earned money working three retail jobs. I was too young to work an office gig, and people didn't want to hire someone green despite my having been trained for office work in high school. I had taken typing, steno and something called "Office Procedures" that included skills like filing and answering phones. You would have thought that I was in some kind of 1950's world but it was actually several decades later than that.

I had my resume at the ready, and decided after six months that working three jobs was draining me -- I wasn't getting any sleep and also was not eating properly. I was tired and anxious. I had to get an office job. I remember walking into one particular employment agency, who advised I wouldn't get more than a dollar more than what I was making in retail, in which I turned around, asked for my resume back, and told her that while I appreciated her honesty, I had valid solid skills and wanted to talk to someone who took me as seriously as I was taking this job hunt. "You have zero experience working in an office, you're not going to get what you're looking for, so you have to work with what I got," she said, shrugging her shoulders when I told her I had rent to pay and this would not cover the amount of money the three retail jobs I currently worked at to pay the rent. "I understand that, but I have solid skills, you tested me, and I did great. You do understand that the salary is not conducive in order for me to survive. I want to deal with a professional and you're not it," I told her, "Let's not waste each other's time. I will find a job that will pay my worth, with or without your help." And with that I went out the door with my resume, her jaw dropping. Other agents peered out from their desks, smiling, some in awe, silently clapping.

I did manage to find a job that paid better, but by then my financial situation was dire. I barely had enough to catch up with piling bills and was falling behind on my rent. I didn't know what to do. I met up with an old acquaintance from technical school who tried to take me under his wing so to speak. He admitted he liked me from school but I was involved with someone else so he never said anything. He helped me to move, as I could no longer deal with the stress of living on my own and the landlord was there to watch and I handed over the keys, signing over my rights to the apartment.

After moving my stuff into a huge one bedroom, I was introduced to his father who was also living there and had a bedroom there of his own. Exhausted, I lay down on the mattress and just passed out. I awoke, it was night. I heard him and his father talking down the hall in the kitchen, the soft murmuring put me back to sleep.

For the next several weeks, I slowly unpacked. "This is going to be great," he would say, "We'll split the rent three ways." "That will be better," I nodded. We would go do laundry together and he would fill me in on his latest romantic escapade. As time went on, he expressed an interest in me. During the July 4th weekend, we were all out of the house, enjoying the day. By the time I got home, I found that the place had burned down due to some kids playing with firecrackers nearby. Everything I owned was gone, up in smoke. I suddenly remembered I had a kitten staying with me who I believed got killed in the fire. I was 18. I was in shock.

My roommate took me to his mother's house where I begged for him not to leave me alone. I cried myself to sleep, literally, clutching him and not letting him go, falling asleep fully dressed. When I awoke, I thought, maybe this isn't happening. But we were still in his mother's house. I thanked her for letting me stay the night and went to my boyfriend's house. "I could get us emergency housing with the Red Cross," I remember my roommate pleading, "We would just have to share the bathroom, but we could have a room for us." It didn't sound very pleasant and actually sounded a little dangerous. When I got a phone call, all I heard was a slight small meow. "Is that...is that..?" I remember saying. I was too afraid to ask. "My dad found your cat, one of the firemen found her in the next apartment, she had escaped through that hole under the sink we had." "I don't believe it," I said, feeling sad all over again.

He brought the kitten over. She had a burn mark on her upper lip under her nose, as if she had gone to curiously sniff at a flame and paid for it. But it was her. "Oh my God it's a miracle!" we both cried and I thanked him over and over for finding her. "How's your dad?" I asked. "He's alright." He then admitted I was better off at the boyfriend's as the housing situation was pretty sketchy. "It's one of those single occupancy places, and it's no place for a female, I'm glad you're not living there," he said. "I wish I could help you," I said sadly, but I had no resources of my own. He understood. "Are you happy?" was all he asked, regarding the boyfriend. "I'm happy he's able to help me, it's best this way." was all I could think of saying. I figured it was a temporary solution. Little did I know.

I celebrated my 19th birthday singing to myself late at night in front of the kitchen window overlooking the parking lot in my boyfriend's parents' apartment. I had come to their house with no clothes, literally only had the clothing on my back. I was allowed to go back to the apartment to search for anything to salvage, but fire and water damage and the firemen just tromping through to put out the fire pretty much destroyed anything of value. I had no identification, nothing to reference myself by. We lived on the top floor of the building and when I looked up there was no ceiling or roof, only sky. I think I found my telephone and with that I walked home with the telephone in a plastic bag. At this point I had an office job but I wasn't concentrating. I had lost so much and was walking around in a fog. I finally quit my job.

I could not go back to my family about this as they had splintered up the summer before and the wounds were still fresh. My mother simply did not want me back in the house as she felt she had too many kids there she had to contend with and I didn't want to be where I wasn't wanted.

No, going 'home' wasn't an option. My boyfriend knew that, so he felt he had no choice but to house me at his parents. Unfortunately, I wouldn't be able to leave until almost three years later, as it took me another nine months to find another job and save for a new place.

Dear Reader

For I am assuming there will be readers. I am going to be brutally honest. The only thing hidden will be the guilty party's names. They, for the most part, know who they are. The only other thing is that some are too stubborn to admit they have any problems and are only too happy to automatically assume someone else has a problem.

It's going to be scathing. It's going to be hard. It's going to be a healthy release for me. I hope.