Welcome to spring break
I can't sleep. But when I do, I sleep tangled up in seven different blankets, with a space heater as tall a five-year-old blasting in the basement of my best friend's house that my crack pot family is house sitting for a lengthy string of months. We're living here pretending to fix up our actual house so we can pretend that we'll put it on the market and sell it. We'll use the money to erase our debt and then my parents and sister will start anew in god knows where, doing god know what, while I sit here pretending to find an apartment that I can pretend to afford while my so called job pretends to keep me around after my two years is up. And I'll continue to sit here pretending it does not bother me in the slightest, being dumbly optimistic like the idiot I am sometimes, waiting for someone to tell me that it's ok to be this optimistic, because in my heart of hearts I know it's not ok but I can't help but ignore it because the stress would be way too frustrating.