Nomad in Current Events

I have my boxes ready. I went out and bought the suitcases that I will be trying to live out of. I have two couches lined up so far that I’ll be alternating between. Maybe. Leanne can’t commit to more than a few days either. I’ll be living off dry food I suppose. Bev looked excited when she speculated that I might have to compromise my vegan diet. I could just be hypersensitive. Yesterday I only managed to get down two slices of the pizza I made. I am more comfortable starving. I’m force-feeding myself as to not self-harm with anorexia. I don’t have time to battle an eating disorder right now. Even though I am holding on to the hunger right now. It’s just better than the knots. I have no pull, I have no fight this week. I avoided calling my doctor about my thyroid. That’s a later problem. My scalp burns and throbs the more stressed I get, my hair is falling out and I cancelled seeing that specialist also. I have to prioritize my battles. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t feeling some type of way right now. I was offered some beer while I pack up my stuff but I prefer to drink during good times. This is far from that. I feel like I”m at the end of my rope. I haven’t taken the time I need to process the fact that my family is just leaving me out to dry like this. I’m pushing down all the stories that my mind keeps trying to come up with. Did I deserve this? I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about anyone after this. There is no magic thought to sugarcoat my situation.
I did have time to write a poem about it. It is called: Fuck
Fucken fucking fucker fuck.
Fucked.

I guess I’ll go lay down and sulk for a little bit. Then get to packing.