crashing out

Crashing out.  Good phrase, I guess.  Meltdown.  Break down.  Despair is my preferred word.

I spent the last six months willfully believing in manifestation and the power of positive thinking.  The house was sold to someone else. Back to even if I had a million dollars I still could not get out of this bus.

Winter 3 and I am so over it but it's coming anyway.  

I have to start moving around come se 21 unless I find a new lazy spot and there is as much competition as ever but a quarter as much space. What the fuck do I do? 

I've exhausted all the charities and I don't fall under their auspices because I neither have children nor an addiction and do not have disability status. 

the job center has pretty much just left me free floating with little crumbs of this and that. We have learned my abilities and skills and frankly I think they have less faith in me than i do.

I learned last winter that carbon monoxide isn't a real hazard.  They have these things that beep when there stuff is present and they tell the press that people died of it, but when I filled the bus with it, not even the canary got sick after six hours.  Yet it kills a human in 30 seconds? No, it does not.

I feel so craptastic anymore. Always sick.  Always a belly ache. Always back ache, head ache, tooth ache and sinus ache. Frequent joing pain, like when I use them.  My hands, for instance, now always hurt while working and I just smoke more weed to numb it and the nauseau and the emotional panic. 

I can't sleep at the best living like this,  and now I"m utterly incapable.  

I play podcasts to try and distract my mind so I can nap at night, a series of naps.The lights and noise here have always kept me from getting a full sleep but now?  It's teamed up with visions of my bus being impounded because it can't drive around or leave the area.

The brakes are unsafe. I have no means to repair them. I have no alternate shelter solution. I have to guardian these animals. Nobody is on my side out there.  None.  

I tried volunteering with the theatre all year, being as positive and helpful as I could.  It didn't do my health any good running up and down stairs and ladders when I wanted prop making or sewing, sit down work. Nor did anyone offer job contacts, landlord contacts, any form of aid to me to help me get settled and off the streets.  I was studiously honest and kind with all. But no, I was not respected enough to be included as community with anyone. But they're all so damn old, they're the same generation that constantly berated me for my immaturity until I went into seclusion due to cancer. Like I was 10 years younger and also autistic but punished for it. Still don't get anything but taking from them.

No but seriously, they seem like the most selfish but virtue signaling people I could imagine. I couldn't. It's unfathomable that people could be so plastic after all those years of posing. It doesn't help my sense of despair in the least.

I'm so screwed.  I keep wondering how will I know it's time to send my pets to the animal shelter? Will they kill them?It's such a final thing to do, but watching them suffer is a terrible curse too.  The only way we got through last winter was I kept whispering we'd be housed before it happened again. That house wasn't selling, it was just there.  I got more and more faith that there was something greater in life.  That the universe had love, that I had relevance to something, somewhere, other than me.  that I wasn't a helpless victim of life spirally too slowly down a drain.

The really horrible part is it must look like manic depression because my natural self is pretty positive, and I work hard at being resilient so I don't blow any opportunities that come my way. So I find something to cling to, and I boost myself, and I do the thing of being positive that people insist I must do. and then it fails again. and again. and things get worse. and worse. And they break. and cruel people threaten or harm me. and I get punished for being punishable. 

and the world. Oh My God.  I cannot stand to watch it. 

They're straight up armed thugs kidnapping whole neighborhoods off the street and spiriting them away.  What we do know of the places they go, it seems to be death camps like treblinka, and is definitely also throwing people out the back of a cargo plane over the ocean.  No, yeah, there is a spot with a lot of sharks, and they dump the people out. We do not know if they kill the people first but it seems unlikely they would want to spend the ordinance to shoot them.  Plus the soldiers maybe pretend these people will survive the landing and swim free like fucking mermaids. 

I can't die.

I can't live.

I can't stop suffering.

I face eve more extreme suffering in the very near future and it's very real.

Nobody has reached out one meager droplet of aid.

Yes, I have tried lottery tickets.  But come on. I don't even know if that thing is real.  How do I know anyone actually wins? Stock photos and photoshop are a thing. These days, AI can just make it up.

I feel like the whole world wants me gone but won't let me leave and I don't understand how other people seem to die so easily. they go on a hike and never return. They take their usual drug and never wake up. They go for a drive and get turned into hamburger. 

Me?  I bet I would break my pelvis but tread water until arrested for jumping off the big bridge. 

I already have tried slashing my arms/wrists, various pills, carbon monoxide, living dangerously, fasting too long, seeking help.

Some of these I've done many times.  

Things i have not tried and why:

gun: don't have one, not sure I wouldn't just shoot off my jaw and ear and make my life even worse.

oxy/fentanyl  Sure, turn over my whole month's welfare for a bag of baking soda because I don't know anything. 

Jump from anything tall if I can, Snagged on the way down, broke his pelvis.  Don't have a care home placement. He can't stay in the hospital, he's healed.  His bus got towed while he was in here. I think we can find a bug bed den dte for him? Oh he's too precious for that. Well leave him in the park then.

But seriously, people, that's where my head is at.

I was going to wash things when I got my washer dryer and bathtub and sink.  I was going to scrub and kill the mold and air it out and have a fridge that I could trust to keep my food safe, and cook and stuff.  make soups and pies and such like I used to. I was going to solve the tooth problem and get them fixed. But instead it's dental wax and a dull constant pain and don't eat anything you have to chew. 

I have to soak rene's toes 3x a day, she has the most awful boils on them.  Huge and swollen and it worries me. 

If there is nothing but this meatsack despair, I have no motivation to live. 

i can't even take a pet in for emergency care. I can't do a fucking thing, and I'm getting weaker and sicker.  Just getting the necessaries done is becoming a juggling match. 

My PWD application never got intaked.  I don't know was it a wrong office problem or do they do this as a cost cutting measure, but I'm still living on 685 a month.

And what about my houseplants? Do they have to die? Because who takes them?

Why must I face such terrible sorrow and fear? Spent my life trying to be the best person I could and this is where I am? How can anyone believe in a god? Or morals?  Or equality or fairness or kindness or anything worth living for? 

No wonder the kids today are staring numbly around them. Getting criticized for it too. 

I cycle from anger to panic and back again. I can't be around others. I never did get a counsellor/therapist, for all my asking this year.

See, the whole problem is housing.  100% And nobody wants to solve it. Or help me figure it out. 

I've honestly tried all those phone numbers.  If they worked via email, maybe I'd have had more traction?  My crying seems to be taken as narcissistic posturing and i can't stop crying when I talk about myself. 

If I could tell them why I'm asking for help via text, so they would hear my words, not get frustrated with my feelings, would they offer help?

I don't think so, actually.  I don't think any of them actually do any outreach. I see the same people slowly grinding it out, unhoused and uncared for.  Not even a fucking food bank.  Just the thieves feeding those who will admire them for it. Stolen food and goods. The thefting around here must be insane.  I know the lack of hope is. The stress too.  Since the parking announcement went out, they've been yelling extra much over there across the way.  I fucking hate it worse than the speeders and racers and buses. 

I'm so tired. Why do I have to do this?  Can't they just set up some suicide booths?  Like, stop pretending? I do not know if I qualify for MAID but I"m terrified to ask. The idea that I would be offered euthanasia over being unhoused and unsupported is too much for my moral mind to face yet.

It's supposed to be for people who are dying of a legit incurable disease.  Is poverty an incurable disease?  It's definitely deadly and unendurable suffering but is it uncurable?

But there is no miracle still and I am, still, feeling lost and powerless and overwhelmed by threat. And alone. 

Dan has been feeding me but he's still no good for talking. He's been fetching me water.  I don't know how we will be handling it after we lose this parking spot. I don't know where to go and just sit here praying, again, uselessly fucking praying to nobody that at least can I have a spot to park where they let me sit? But it will still be rocked by speeders, disturbed by honkers and racers, and surrounded by shouting people and far from amentities such as water to drink.

I am going to quit this now. Did I get it off my chest?  Maybe. Probably not.  It's still unresolved, after all.