(no subject)
I'm having a mini panic attack. I know, stupid isn't it? There isn't much left in the house. There are a few things I have to move like a desk and dresser. He left this big fucking entertainment center and a heavy bookshelf. The least he could've done was haul them out to the curb for trash day. Instead, I have to sit here and figure out some way to get them out of here. And then there's last month's rent. And rent on the new place. And bills still coming in. And things still have to be painted. And I'm hoping I get my security deposit back, or at least some of it.
My stomach hurts.
I'm totally broke.
The house is dead quiet.
There is no food.
I keep telling myself that these transitional periods are notoriously messy. It's never a piece of cake. I'm just so worried that everything's gonna fall apart. That I won't be able to get anything together in time. That I'm going to fail at this whole living thing.
My stomach hurts.
I'm totally broke.
The house is dead quiet.
There is no food.
I keep telling myself that these transitional periods are notoriously messy. It's never a piece of cake. I'm just so worried that everything's gonna fall apart. That I won't be able to get anything together in time. That I'm going to fail at this whole living thing.