I fell in love with a war
I don’t feel as bad as I did the last time I wrote. But things are just as bad, if not worse because more time has passed. They could certainly be worse. I could have a way worse hangover, not even tried to get back on track and be lying in bed still with the curtains drawn trying to distract myself until it was late enough to take a sleeping pill and pass out.
It’s still the same fucking thing: money. I’m distracted because I don’t have money, I’m anxious because I don’t have money, I’m sad because I don’t have money, I’m angry because I don’t have money, I’m ashamed because I don’t have money, I’m ashamed because I don’t have money.
I know there are problems that escape financial power, but literally I can’t imagine any problem in my own life that wouldn’t be solved if only I had money.
And I could have more money. I could try and get a job at a sleazy café downtown, filled with neon signs and old men in wool suits, where I have to wear a tight dress and a pushup bra, and pretend to be fascinated and amused by whatever comes out of the clientele’s mouths. A part of me kind of wished I could let go of my ego and just take a job, any job, and at least be able to write and sew and read and do the things I actually enjoy while having the peace of mind that I’m making a living, however small it is.
The truth is, whenever I think of reality, whenever I force myself to look at things as they actually are, I start to feel like I’m drowning. I start asking what is the point of anything, if what I want is so laughably out of reach.
I like writing, and I think for what little practice I’ve had, I’m decent at it, and I could actually be great if I’d set out to do so- But it feels so foolish to try and make a living as a writer whilst being unemployed.
I was going to say “I hope by the end of this week I’m able to bite the bullet and take a job, any job, and at least write knowing I’m making some money.” But one (I think) positive change since last week has been a full ban on any type of daydream or wishful thinking regarding my future. From now on, there’s only planning and doing.
Last week, I was wondering if I’d end up the week the same, better or worse. I’m not even going to ask the question now.