…or something that isn’t what I feel at the moment.
I’m heartily sick of my life at the moment. I don’t know why. I’m got a fantastic girlfriend, I love nursing, I’ve got a nice house, my bike’s actually running and the car is nearly back on the road.
But at the end of every day, when I come home, when I curl up with my girlfriend at night, I think about money. I think about the red water bill. I think about the credit card bill. I think about the Regolith bill. I think about the huge, all encompassing debts that are running after me like some fucking slavering wolf.
I think about my dad, my dad and his pain, his pain that’s so bad. I think about my mum struggling to deal with my dads illness.
I slept so badly last night. The night seemed to drag on forever, as I woke, every few hours to a sick stress feeling. I’ve got so much fucking work that needs doing. That I should be doing. But I can’t physically do any more than I’m doing. Why can’t this be easy? Why am I doing this to myself.
I had a crappy job that paid me 3.5 k more than I’ll get when I qualify. I *had* that job. I could *easily* have got way more money. I do this because I want to do nursing. But it’s hard. It’s fucking hard right now to keep going.
