Home Page - Mark's Journal - 13 Seasons in Hell

Saturday 19 July 2003

Just a quick real-time insert here. I finally admitted to a couple people about my living conditions this week. I wrote my friend, Suzanne, talked to my sister, Lori, and told Cassie, a friend at work. It was hard saying some of the things I did, but I suppose it was good for me. Take this journal, for example. Although the writing for me at the very least is bittersweet, I have to admit I do feel better than I did when I started. Getting some of this shit off my chest is a good thing... probably better for me to write than it is for you to read.

How bad is it at my place? Having no electricity can be quite the adventure for an evening... it happens to everyone come storm season. But I am now without phone for six weeks and without electricity for five. I wake up in the morning and head over to the library for a while... check my email and write some on this site. Then I go out for a walk, enjoy the sunshine a bit. (That, too, is probably a cause for mood improvement.) Make it home and get ready for work. I've found that by letting the water sit in the "hot" water tank for about four days it gets to room temperature... just tolerable to shower on a hot summer day. (In between I use soap and a washcloth at the basin.) I walk to work (two-and-a-half miles) for the only human interaction I get each day. Someone there is usually kind enough to give me a lift home. At night, I light a candle by which to see, and try to soothe my worries away until I can fall asleep.

Now take that typical day, and multiply it by 35. It gets pretty draining! The loneliness is becoming unbearable as well. There are three ladies at work who smile everytime I talk with them, and I can't ask any of them out on a date. With no car I can't take them anywhere. With no money I can't do anything with them. With no phone I can't call just to say, "Hi, how's your day?" With no electricity I can't invite ask someone over for supper. God, I hate this!

From the last entry written, everything seemed to be going so smoothly. How could everything collapse into the shell of a man I call me?

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