It’s a strange concept, realizing it’s no longer a common thing for me to actually have laughed. Really laughed, out loud, for more than a few seconds.
I actually, entirely enjoyed myself.
Despite still being a little sick, despite being tired, despite the rush and potential tension when we left — nothing went wrong. Even the crowded bus ride was nice — despite seeing the very person I just found out was pregnant — and everything went smoothly. No one made fun of me. It didn’t break the bank even though I paid for both myself and him. R. was sweet and kind and affectionate and stayed close the entire time.
Very close. Very sweet. Lots of hugs.
And I laughed so much. During the car ride there, during dinner, the gift shop visit, the ride back.
It’s a strange thought, for me. But it’s a common one these days. Especially now.
My worst days, my nights, my moments of desperation and fear and loneliness.
I want to go home.
Don’t know what it means when you consider I don’t have one. I never have found someplace that, undeniably, feels like home. And I’ve been to so many — my birthplace, my brother’s birthplace, all the different apartments and houses and foster homes, the dorms and temporary arrangements. None of it’s ever really been home.
The only exception is the temporary peace when I’m with him, in his arms, like the way he held me last night. That was too perfect — or maybe I was too lost in my head to not feel like there was something wrong this time.
Warm and perfect and so, so close. It’s times like that I feel like I’ll cry just if I move, if I break that perfect hold. Crying at the very idea of falling asleep, knowing he’d be gone in a few hours and I’d be alone again.
But even then, in my own bed — our bed now — it’s not home. It’s in her room, in her apartment.
I’ve never ever had a home. And I’m desperate for it.
I long so much, so badly, for a place I’ve never known. Is it so bad?
And so the thought is strange.
The thought isn’t, ‘I miss home,’ or ‘I want a home.’
I want to go home.
A place that exists, a place that if I just knew what direction to go, I would make it. A place I already have the key to. Unlock the front door, honey, I’m home. Fall back with him, cry it out, and finally things would be alright.
It’s always at the worst of times.
And a part of me believes that home isn’t here. The key is there, but it’s been taken from me. Someone holds the key, keeps me from going home, because I need them. I need him and he needs me.
I can’t go without him. If it weren’t for him, I’d be there already.
At least tomorrow won’t be a twelve hour day, apparently there was some confusion regarding that. It’ll be a ten hour day.
Also managed to talk to J about payments for the longer days. Anything up to 9 hours will cap like before, 10-11 will give me an extra ten, and 12 will get me an extra twenty. Still not ideal, but better than before.
Also apparently, when things move up for him, I’ll be getting a fixed amount weekly, or an increase in the cap or something. We’ll see; either one sounds decent to me.
And he lost his phone. Whoops.
He’ll pay me in the morning before I leave, which will be good, and I’ll try to get to my bank at some point if I can to deposit some into my account. Might even end up with a free lunch tomorrow, he’s offering to pay for us to go to the Wex instead of our original lunch plans. Considering I haven’t been there in years, that might be pretty nice.
Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiired. But at least today wasn’t complete shit.
Why do I have this habit of attracting the people that need help at ridiculous hours, and jumping through hoops to be there for them when I’m nearly dead and really should just… sleep?
Seriously, I don’t mind, especially not for this one, but… ALWAYS. It’s like some retarded reverse superpower.
And of course tumblr stops working, too, so I look like a dick anyway if they manage to respond and I can’t. Douchebag.
Maybe I’ll sleep now.
On another note, at least they said I’m one of the few who bothers to care and made it clear through an apology that they clicked on the first thing possible when visiting my page. That was nice despite the fact that I’m worried sick now.
And I actually talked to 2 additional people today, instead of the usual singular. It’s been a while for either of them, but both had their positives. I miss them, but of course that scares me too.
Why Millennials aren’t buying cars or houses, and what that means for the economy
HAHA NO MONAY!!!!!
Maybe our generation aren’t buying houses and cars because EVERYTHING IS SO FUCKED
You want us to actually talk to bank people and get home loans and auto loans? They are still fucking us! Any time I go into a bank, I feel disgusted. You want me to do MORE business with the who want to charge me 5 dollars for every single swipe of my debit card? Get fucked!
You think I’m gonna buy a car? A car? Where am I gonna get the money for a car and the insurance and the insurance against the insurance company if God forbid they decide to do the same things they did to the poor Fisher family and countless others? And fucking GAS? Are you crazy? The planet is dying, and you want me to buy gas at $FUCK.YOU/gallon?
In the past 5 years since the economy fell apart, we’ve been adapting. We’ve been listening to countless horror stories of those who made the risk. Those who saved and did it right, and still ended up with an inferior product with inferior service that RUINS YOUR LIFE. It’s not like ordering a pizza, and instead of sausage, you get cheese. It’s like ordering a pizza and then your credit is ruined and you are flat broke. The pains of acquisition aren’t worth it if it can all be taken away like a bureaucratic fart in the bathtub. It would be smarter to save our money for tickets to god-damn Mars than to invest in these hideous, broken systems.
We aren’t cheap. We fucking hate doing business with you people.
All these pieces on Millennials are so mired in confusion since we don’t even trust journalists any more. The news, our entire lives, has been scary. Think about being 8 and processing the deaths of abortion doctors or homegrown terrorism. Now try to process the news when every asshole on camera just lies. The news hasn’t had an ounce of truth in it for 10 years. Can you not understand how much we don’t trust anyone who is older than us? How can you trust anybody when the president and vice-president of the United States lied to the Secretary of State so they could START THE WRONG WAR!
Also, that graphic? Is that what you think we all look like? Are you fucking kidding me, Atlantic?
I hope they never find out how to market to us. I hope we splinter so much that companies like Ford will have to make a decent product instead of asking the Vomit Spouts that created Jersey Shore how to create MORE fantasies about how great THINGS will make your life. We don’t attach to things because things break. We saw everything break.