I am in a place of freedom, of striving and of optimism. Where I cart my laundry to the laundromat in a suitcase. Where I have homework and I actually do it because...I want to. Where the landlord fixes everything himself, hits a water line and shuts off our water for five hours and two trips into town to use the bathrooms of various businesses. This place, that I'm in, is pretty good.
I eat toast for supper, pizza for breakfast and sometimes (don't tell my mom) drink wine for no reason at all. My apartment is always a mess, but since cleaning is nothing more than moving the pile of dishes from one counter to the other, I don't do it as often as I should.
I want to be out, exploring, meeting, not couped up growing fat and bored. But money is tight and work makes me tired. And this is how it is, day upon day. But then,