is this not hell?

at two am, on april twenty seventh, i was woken up by a security guard banging his stick on the pole next to my head. so, to get him to shut up and fuck off, i threatened to kill him. i picked up my shit, and started walking up the hill. the night before, everything was telling me not to be downtown again. the cops took me to jail, where they kept me in hell for a month. they let me out thursday at five pm, so i couldn't get the rest of my stuff. i had to change outside the jail back into my clothes, and it was like this transformation, i didn't feel like myself for about ten minutes after. but i had my phone with no charge on it, and my wallet. i went to the smoke shop on first, then seven eleven where i got a sandwich, water, and chocolate milk, then to the weed store in belltown... when they let me out, they gave me both coats from when they took me a month before, so i was already overheating by the time i got to belltown. but i got weed, then walked back downtown trying to think of what to do next. i puked up the sandwich and chocolate milk, got an extreme full body cramp, had to sit on a corner for half an hour trying to relax my legs enough to stand, couldn't find anyone, or anywhere to charge, had to buy a cheap seven eleven charging base, but everywhere was closing, so i used the one bus ticket in my wallet to take the eight up toward capitol hill, but couldn't even keep sitting on the bus because i was so nauseous, so i got off around broadway, where there's a starbucks and a little alteration shop, sat there for about an hour, could barely walk into the starbucks, got a hot chocolate, and walked the rest of the way up the hill to fifteenth, walked around all night till i ran into mike finally, but he's not much support, bought him a cheap phone the next morning, we took the bus down to get my stuff, since then, i haven't seen him much. i got him the phone so i could get ahold of him, so he could help me, because i haven't learned from that mistake enough times yet.

that weekend, i don't even remember what i did. but i know it was miserable. all three days of it. twosday was hell... whensday, the second anniversary of my mother's death. may thirty first. timothy leary died on the same day, in nineteen ninety six. i left hell and started traveling on that day in twenty fourteen. on may sixth, twenty sixteen, i got back to seattle from los angeles. the hell i had been through in that amount of time is nothing... wasn't even preparation for spending a month in jail, alone, no one giving a fuck about you, and wondering when you get out if there might be any messages on your phone, only to find, in fact, there aren't. of course there weren't. you knew there wouldn't be. no one gives a fluffy rainbow fuck about you. but... whensday, i went and found joe. i got a new case from goodwill, for seven bucks. packed my shit into it, left the big brown one, got back to capitol hill that night, and slept in the teriyaki doorway. woke up that morning, and something told me, the second i became conscious, look at the case. of course, it wasn't there. a week after getting out of jail, half my shit gets stolen. my bluetooth speaker... again... the carton of smokes i just bought, and my other coat. the fur coat. papers. beanies. so i woke up friday morning with just my sleeping bag and laptop bag. i went to reach and got my packages, went to target, bought a new speaker, and got a bus to a motel, where i've spent the last three nights. it's nine forty seven am, sunday morning, and i'm about to leave, and i don't even know where to go. my neck hurts so bad, that making decisions is hopeless.

i need to find somewhere new to sleep. and i need... i'm sick of asking for help.

just enjoy being by yourself.

enjoy it. do your own thing, and fuck everyone else.

they were never going to be there for you.

you've got bus money. you've lightened your load. you remember what jail told you.

don't rely on anyone else. can't depend on anyone else.

monday, between the required shit, find writers. ask questions.

fuck the life you wanted.