Luther's friend Alice is the type of friend that I most value. She will kill for you. She's crazy. Any friend who will kill for you is crazy. That's why you never ask those friends to do it. If possible, you never ask those friends for anything. It's better to just know them socially. However, everyone should have at least one.
I don't ask for help unless I have no other option. Sometimes I just don't ask at all. There's a price to pay for favors. Even when something is given to me without expectation of return or reciprocation, I have guilt and anxiety about the gift. I've learned that nothing is ever free.
I really really really really really wish that I could go gambling right now. I haven't been able to get my fix in over a year. That didn't bother me so much when I was working towards a goal and a dream. Now, in between preparing meals, driving to and from doctor's appointments, dialysis visits and negotiations to get my mom to put clothes on, go to bed, take hey medicine or even to just stop having a tantrum, I peel off my clothes, don my pj's and watch TV in bed. I try to drink most days. Today I have a big glass of lemon drop on my nightstand. It is room temperature after sitting there for hours. It smells like vodka. I don't smell any lemon at all. It's unappealing. I guess I wouldn't make a very good drunk. I'm not even sure why I still try. I've no desire to recover from any kind of substance abuse. It doesn't look pleasant. I've enough unpleasantness in my life as it is. I hate feeling sick and I often get a hangover before I've even gone to sleep. Then there's the hives. What's the damn point?
I still don't feel suicidal. I know that I'm needed at the moment. Without that purpose for being here, the financial ruin I'm just beginning to suffer would drive me to dangerous behavior. Then again, if I wasn't here I could work and make money to pay these goddamn bills! I wish I could just get drunk or high or something. All this sitting, doing nothing with my hands tied by obligation is driving me fucking crazy.
I didn't enjoy my time in Phoenix. I should have. It was preferable to this. I should've gone out more and had more sex. I didn't know that the time I spent chasing jobs was a waste. I thought that I was building a nice life. I thought that I was pursuing a dream. I thought so many things, so many things that do not matter now. I wish I had gone to the museum and shows while I was there. I wish that I'd spent more time connecting with the people I liked and singing in the karaoke clubs. I should've gotten more tattoos. I should have gambled. If the money I spent trying to build a life was going to go to waste anyway, I should've gambled more, taken more trips, seen more places. Why even bother with Phoenix or school at all? I should've gone back to London. I liked London. What a fucking waste.
I envy people with religion. They believe that God is going to make things better for them if they are faithful. They pray for relief. When it comes, they give God the credit and praise. When it doesn't come, they pray harder. The hope that God is on his way keeps them going. So, what keeps me going? Where does my hope come from? I don't know. It's there. The damn thing refuses to die. Someday I will be thankful for that. See, there it is again! So annoying. Here's the thing, though. When things are going well, I pray. You know, just in case. I don't know who I pray to. It's weird not knowing who or what to thank. I also share. I figure that blessings don't really "belong" to me, so it makes sense to share them. It's funny because my mom always hated that about me. I love to share with strangers too. Why not? There's no difference between us other than the routes we took to get here.
And so I push on.
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