Dark days, my friends. Dark days.
I'm gonna go ahead and tell myself that the following problems are simply a product of Seasonal Affective Disorder.
- I am SO SICK of being dirt poor. Sure, it was fun for awhile. And politicizing in a way that is very important. But gee willikers I hate owing friends money and being late on the rent and missing out on coffee dates and feeling like I will NEVER have enough extra money for a tattoo or a new dildo. It's been almost a year and a half of scrounging now, and frankly, it's symptomatic of an economic system that does not value me as an individual.
- I can't stop smoking. I want to, but I can't. I break down and bum smokes obsessively due to item 1. I also can't stop binge-eating in the evenings. Which is hard when you're living off dumpster grub.
- My front tooth either has a cavity or is falling out due to my encroaching wisdom teeth. I haven't been to a dentist in four years. I haven't been to a doctor in one year now. I have no asthma medication and I'm running out of toothpaste. I stole a new toothbrush a month ago, but they're risky. Even in grocery stores, they watch the personal care aisles like hawks.
- I feel fat. I am fat a bit. Not too bad, but enough that I feel heavy and like I can't run and jump and climb trees. This is due to item 2b, but also because I don't feel much like moving anyway.
- I haven't left the same ten block radius for months. Initially, I felt positively about this, seeing it as a sign that this community is tight-knit and offers a person all they need, really. Now. Now I wanna get the hell out of this town, even just for a damn weekend. Fuck.
- My dog is still enough of a handful that it adds stress to my life.
- I've lost my orgasm. Going on three weeks now. I've also lost my libido. This ain't just dysfunction. This is a gaddamn identity crisis. Being a big perv is part of WHO I AM.
- I've done stupid, shortsighted things with my hair, thereby ensuring I won't be able to get legitimate employ for months.
- I've always been a bit dysphoric, gender-wise.... but lately it's becoming pressingly uncomfortable. I don't think it's a phase. I think I might just not be a girl. But it's hard to separate these things from my experiences of trauma. Ugh.
- Everyone around me is coupling frantically. IT'S NOT SPRING YET, PEOPLE! STOP JUMPING THE GUN!
So. There. Good. I mean. There's more to each of these points but... lists make me feel happy about things. Especially lists that feel complete after ten items exactly.
If anyone has:
- lots of spare money
- an extra penis/binder
- a car
- alcohol, cigarettes and/or marijuana
- a dog just like Max that's calm and really good off-leash
- a source of employment
that'd be great. Let me know. In exchange, I can offer you:
- self-deprecating humour
- marmite toast
- someone to fetch things for you when you're sitting under a cat
- mediocre love poems
- lots of good discussions about politics, queerness and gender
It's February, after all. We have to stick together.
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