I Am About To Lose My Home. I Have Been Apartment Hunting, Trying To Find A Place And I Haven't Found

I am about to lose my home. I have been apartment hunting, trying to find a place and I haven't found one. Phone calls, applications and wishful thinking. Two days and seven hours is all I have left to stand on a floor, sit in my room, type on this computer. Soon I won't have electricity, Internet, a bed, a room, a kitchen, a home...I will have my boxes, and I may not even have that. I may just have my small bag to carry my necessities. I've asked the few people I do know for help, most abandoned me, others apologized but couldn't accommodate me, others just stared, 'that sucks.' This reminds me of what I learned years ago at 17 when my best friend died. And that's everything could be going wrong in your life, but everything around you looks perfect, even peaceful. I was walking around going from an apartment building I was hoping to enter, and the sky was a beautiful blue, the breeze was cool and refreshing, birds were singing, and kids were even playing in their driveway while their mother watched. The day felt like every other that I had once enjoyed. How can I feel so empty and broken, lost and even desperate on the inside while the outside world seems to be glowing with it's own rhythm and beat that has never matched my own? This is probably one of my last post as my computer will be boxed and stored or boxed and sold or boxed and stolen. Not sure what will happen over these next few days. I thought I could figure it out. I thought I'd find a way because I've made it this far. But it looks like this may be the end of the road. This may be where I am finally too weak to tread water and just sink to the bottom, take in all the water, never seen daylight, never feel air in my lungs again.

Sequoia Red (taken from my heart)

According to you, I stand wrong. I act wrong, I breathe wrong. I live wrong. I am the utter definition of wrong.

- Sequoia Red

I'm F8^%ed... I suppose it's time to surrender and let the water in my lungs.

- Sequoia Red

Writing can be a pretty desperate endeavor, because it is about some of our deepest needs: our need to be visible, to be heard, our need to make sense of our lives, to wake up and grow and belong. It is no wonder if we sometimes tend to take ourselves perhaps a bit too seriously.

Anne Lamott (via stoppingandseeing)