Even in northwest Washington, where the rain seems neverending and the skies are painted grey by cloudy paintbrushes, it almost looks like summer. I don't know whether to rejoice or cry, because I was finally starting to get used to the rain.
This Friday signals the two-month mark of living in Seattle. This morning, mid-breakdown, I tearfully confessed to Christopher that I wanted to move back to boring, bland, eastern Washington. Back to the safety of my parents and their money and their nice houses and their supportiveness and everything they can provide for me.
My dad called me asking about college and financial aid and he mentioned that it might be a good idea for me to join the Air force or something, to get on track. Since I don't have any plans or foreseeable future. The only thing anyone would expect for my future is suicide, and I'm trying really hard to not make that a reality. I'm not taking my medicine as regularly as I should because I have a very limited supply, but since starting a new job, it's been under wraps pretty well.
I think the only thing keeping me tied to reality is my job. I feel like I'm contributing something, even if it's only toasted bagels. Making money is nice, and not having to rely on Christopher is a plus. And my stir-craziness has substantially reduced since I've been able to leave the apartment more. Much better than my last job, that's for sure.