And she's the one who told me to start writing, that she'd support me one hundred percent. Guess the cigs are more important than I am.
And then, even when I had a real job, I was still a loser, because my room was a mess. Never mind that I kept the den and the kitchen clean. My room wasn't clean so I was a horrible terrible evil person.
And now, because I don't want to take my brother to Wal-mart today, I'm evil, just because I want to take him when he's got gas money. Because otherwise, we'll be stuck out on the road somewhere and I'll never see the so called money.
I've been looking for jobs that might pay for relocation, at least a bus or plane ticket, but so far I've come up empty. I'm not very good at coming up with searches that yield good results, because I can't think of all the different variations that might be needed.
You know what? I'll do anything at this point. I don't care. I just have to get away from here.
ETA: I should really resist updating when I'm in a bad mood. Thanks all of you who commented *big hugs*; you guys have really made my day.