FML

Dear Blog,

Well, I have bad news and... and bad news.

Let's see.

First of all, my lease ends in August. I need to find a place to stay. I'm completely at the end of my rope right now, because renting costs are astronomical and buying a house seems like only a distant possibility. Today I looked at a few in my price range and they were in overwhemlingly poor condition. I'm going to definitely need to find a roommate and I don't think Ben will do anymore; he's bringing me down motivationally and emotionally.

I called my dad to get some advice and he quoted my blog to me (yep, you!), which was disconcerting but not unexpected. I've long assumed that my family had access, at least subconsciously, and I'm mostly relieved. I feel bad that they had to read through some of it (specifically, the sex stuff). And I also feel bad that I painted them in a bad light, because I do have a habit of portraying people as black-and-white, which is unfair. But like I said: I'm mostly relieved. Because what better way to get to know me than through my writing. It's all one big metaphor which ends on the same bittersweet note: I have no idea what I'm doing and I'm probably ruining my life.

I assume they still read, so here's some tidbits they might find interesting:

1) You were right. You were totally and completely right about Ben, and I fucked up big time.

2) I totally lied to you and I'm sorry, but I did it mostly out of fear of the consequences of telling the truth, because I'm neurotically scared of getting in trouble. And obviously, I'm in much deeper shit than if I had told the truth, but I clearly wasn't thinking right.

3) I'm sorry. I'm sorry because I discounted your advice, which so far has proven to be 100% correct, and I'm sorry because I've been a privileged, dishonest brat of a child who took advantage of you and totally failed to appreciate what I had until I lost it.

4) I totally regret everything and I'm sick of living in abject poverty and going nowhere in my life. I wish I could start over, but obviously can't.

5) I don't think I can ever look either of you in the face again because I'm really ashamed and kind of disgusted with myself right now, and even though you said I can re-earn your trust, I doubt I can and don't even want to try because I'll probably realistically fuck up all over again.

So now what?

I won't have anywhere to live come August, except for a $700/month apartment, on a $1000/month income, and no roommate. I don't have any savings and no way to return to school, and with the current place I occupy, no hope of saving anything, either.

I have absolutely no one to rely on, since all my friends totally left me, and Ben's gone, and Jack and Andrew leave in two weeks, and I've pretty much isolated my entire family by being a bitch. (It's nice to know that my one talent, Creative Writing, has bitten me in the ass so thoroughly.) (Of course, I have only myself to blame for that.) (Side note: Is it worse to write my innermost thoughts here or keep them secret? If I never aired them out, I would have less conflict in my life, but the conflict I never started would remain unresolved. Ugh. Fucking roundabout justifications.)

There has to be some option here I'm not considering. What am I overlooking? Surely there's some sort of situation where I can find a stable place to live and gather up the funds to re-enter school, short of prostitution or drug dealing.

Well, I'm trying to find a second job, but working myself to death seems to be a rather inelegant solution to this whole mess.

Not for the first time, I wish I were someone else. Specifically, someone who was less likely to fuck herself over again and again and again.