Due to some stupid, juvenile drama that I will not get into here specifically, I have moved out of the room I was sharing with my literal roommate and have since set up my bed and nightstand in the dining room/kitchen of the apartment. It is extremely cold sleeping out in the kitchen and we can't run the heat much at all because all three of us can't really afford high electricity bills. Just to give you an idea of how cold it is in the kitchen, during the DAY, I can see my breath. But I feel like even though I pay 200/month for the gracious offering of sleeping in someone's kitchen instead of being homeless, I'm still unhappy and a little ungrateful. I guess things could be much worse though. I feel like I'm teetering on the edge of homelessness right now. My roommate I had drama with is unpredictable mood-wise and temperament and I don't know if she's secretly plotting my eviction or what.

Despite working 43-48 hour weeks I'm barely making enough money to keep up with all my bills and living expenses. I'm not kidding when I say this -- I have less than two dollars in my bank account. That is it. And some loose change in a Hunger Game's cup. I feel as though my possessions are a mere echo of a distant past when things were okay. When I had a fiance, a cat, my own apartment, my own warm place to retreat to. I miss watching movies and TV shows with my ex. I miss playing Minecraft with her. I miss her.

And I guess after nearly two years since the break-up I should magically be over her and be okay with where my life is. But where I am right now is so far from the paradise I was living two years ago. Funnily enough, two years ago I was still struggling with the idea of suicide. It's only recently that I have been more and more serious about accepting that solution because life right now, to put it contritely, sucks.

But at least I'm not homeless.

At least I DO have a dollar in my name.

And I DO have a job, even if it's barely paying for anything.

I don't know. Things gotta start looking up soon, right?