when you feel your clothes fresh out of the oven
OKAY SO I REALIZED I USED OVEN INSTEAD OF DISHWASHER BUT I KINDA FORGOT WHAT IT WAS CALLED AND USED THE NEXT BEST GUESS I COULD THINK OF
It’s called a washing machine
i think its a dryer like who would be feeling wet ass clothes
this post is a fucking train wreck
Decisions is about a group of friends in a family they created within themselves, struggling with adult concepts like rent, jobs, and relationships while still kind of being kids; and how the choices they make reveal who they are as people.
It’s not like tumblr has ever helped me out before. I’ve just run out of people to talk to.
I’m at the end of my rope. For real this time. I can’t get a job, even at fast food (they say I’m too overqualified), even with the recommendation of a current employee. I can’t get any assistance from the government - I’ve been denied everything. I can’t afford to eat and rent is due on Sunday. It will be the second month I don’t have it and I’m afraid what Kareem will say when he has to cover me again. He can’t keep feeding me forever.
The only option I’m finding is to move back in with my parents’ - but I can’t. I’ll lose Kareem if I go, but more importantly - I’ll lose my recovery. The very thought of moving back there gives me panic attacks. There are so many triggers - people I can’t see, places I can’t go, even my own HOUSE is a trigger, with its constant drama and fighting. If I go back there, my depression will come back and I won’t be able to break free again. I have no support system out there - my own parents haven’t even SPOKEN to me in three months. Going back home is a death sentence.
And it’s starting to look like the only choice I have.