(no subject)
It's silly how a complete disaster can make you realize how important the tiniest things are in life. Today my entire apartment flooded, thanks to the idiots upstairs. All the ceilings are caved in, my bed, pictures, books, all of our furniture, destroyed. I start a new job teaching tomorrow, and I can't even sleep in my own house. Those who aren't supposed to be leaned on now are. Pressure will inevitably build, and I have nowhere to escape to. This is why people have families I suppose. I feel like mine doesn't exist. Hell, they may as well not.
I have nothing better to do than ready Jack Kerouac and sit in a bedroom that isn't mine, and it's the most uncomfortable feeling I've had in a long time.
I have nothing better to do than ready Jack Kerouac and sit in a bedroom that isn't mine, and it's the most uncomfortable feeling I've had in a long time.