In the souldark night…

To those who follow me–here and on Twitter–I ask for your patience and understanding. Please bear with me.
My weeks of househunting have been more than a little frustrating; one place offered turned out to be a scam; two places wouldn’t let unless I had work and/or filled out a credit score report. (How in the world do you get a score without a credit card? That’s what I’d like to know.) And my cash stash has been so depleted that I couldn’t even scrape up bus fare to view other places.
At the moment, I am also without a cell (matter of do-re-mi to pay the bill), so even calling the places that I find intriguing proves a challenge.
And yesterday saw me at my lowest–unable to get through to two friends (one who did not want to be disturbed as he was ill, the other whose visit I missed, and I could not let him know I was behind time).
In a perfect storm of depression, pain, and grief, I pulled out paper and wrote a suicide letter, incorporating elements of a last will into it. Not my first time writing such a note, but the first time I finished one, and itemized what I wanted to give away. It was scary, cathartic, and exhilarating, in a perverse way.

I went for a walk, later on, and wound up at AA, a sobbing mess.

Why am I writing all this? ‘Cos I need support at this time. I do. I don’t think I will follow through, but I need to know that you hear me, and that I’m not an imbecile or a freak for feeling so low. If you decide to unfollow, I wish you well. I do. This is heavy stuff.

But if you stick with me, I can promise my gratitude, my loyalty, and my love.

So thank you for hearing me out.

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