The real estate took my counter offer of a shorter lease with less of a rent increase and punched it in the face till its teeth fell out and its nose was flat, and sent it back to me, stating that it "was not acceptable" and wouldn't even be put to the owners.
While I could, theoretically, pay the rent they're asking for, I'm not comfortable with handing over half my pay, every pay. That's just asking for long term trouble, and I have enough long term trouble already.
So, I guess I'm moving.
Yet, it appears the rent every where has risen, or maybe it's just the wrong time of year to be moving, or maybe I'm not part of an elite secret society of low rent housing arcana, but there is nothing in the city I can afford. There's very little inner city I can afford and, given I need to stay close to the train lines to get home home, nothing in a useful location.
I don't know. I just don't know.
Independence is expensive. Being an anti-social misanthropic space/quiet-hungry hermit crab is expensive. This was the one thing I had that was almost working, and now I can't have it anymore.
Forgive me if I don't seek out a therapist, tailored medication, exercise and any number of things that would certainly clear my head. The last thing I can afford to do right now is experiment with medication, and be wrong.
Once, I would have said that I didn't want to out of the irrational belief that I could just will myself better, because my pride wouldn't let me admit I needed any help at all, and that I should just learn to get by on my own. Not long ago, I would have said there was no point, because I hadn't finished falling apart, and I wasn't in a frame of mind that would be receptive to any sort of improvement.
Now, I can't. I just can't. It would be a gamble, and I have nothing to spend. Risk-taking uses up resources I don't have, I have nothing as a buffer for disappointment, I have nothing to spend on the hope and will to see anything through, I have nothing left. Everything goes into going nowhere at all, not moving at all, staying very still, keeping this balance with all these sharks and velociraptors circling, and they're things I can do nothing about. They're completely out of my power, and I can't escape them. There's nowhere to retreat and regroup. There are no safe places left. I have nothing left to give.
And that is my choice. I acknowledge that, and knowing that I could change myself and elect not to, I try to keep my self-pity to a minimum, and to myself. I don't expect much of this to make sense, even less to be understood, but I hope that you will at least respect the decision.
Because I don't have anything left to use in a debate, because it just doesn't matter.
Tomorrow, I think, is a great day to go to work hungover.