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Weblog 08212024
L says I'm in crisis. She's right. I moved here for a job, and that got ripped out from under me; now, my housing is getting ripped out from under me, too. There are people out there who are fighting for me, caring for me. I struggle to fight or care for myself.
If I go to their care, it'll be an iron lung -- just like it was before I left to come here. I came here to fight for my dreams. I'm not giving up on them, but I'm not fighting for them either. It felt like an iron lung, surrounded by people that I love, because I was able to carry on, but it felt like I was trapped in a metal coffin. I felt the light dimming back then; the spark is alive in my eyes, it's just my muscles and my will that fail me now.
I want to fight for myself. I don't want this crisis to defeat me. As an accountability thing, I bet I won't post a weblog every day reporting on what I did that day (today and yesterday were void days; I did nothing, other than send one job app). I make this bet against myself the same way that kid singing "Don't Tell Mom I'm in Bakhmut" bet against his friend, Maxim. I love that song.
So, let's see if I can make it.