So, $61 additional borrowed bucks later (bringing the total up to almost $400), two leaks fixed in the a/c system, more freon added, the car once again has air conditioning. The weirdness with the oil has no explanation because when we took it in, we were, at this point, somehow over on oil, rather then under. I don't know. Of course, his sage advice was to, well, basically get a new car. The engine's knocking badly he said, and he doesn't expect it to last much longer. Oh yeah, and no long trips meaning, even if we could afford it (which we can't), Orlando is so out of the question. He feels it's a matter of time, not chance, that the car will just up and die.
Joy.
You know, we could get a new car. Sure. If we wanted to live it in. Because rent and a car payment simply aren't both possible. That is of course, if we were willing to pay like 23% interest at some scam buy-here-pay-here place since neither of us could ever actually get approved for a loan.
We live paycheck to paycheck. And barely even at that. We're always behind on the bills, we have to borrow money (that we can never fucking pay back) for emergencies like the radiator blowing, we don't have credit and there isn't any goddamned light at the end of the fucking tunnel. I'm sick of people telling me bullshit like It'll get better or you'll figure it out because you know what? They fucking won't get better. They never fucking do. Ever. I've never had once fucking easy day in my goddamned life. What? It wasn't enough that I was fucking beat up and molested by my fucking biological father? It wasn't enough that he tried to kill my mom in front of me many times? It wasn't enough that I had to live alone at age 16, working and going to school to pay for food to eat? It wasn't enough that I had ulcers when I was 13, I was anemic for over five years, that I've lost dozens of jobs due to my shitty health? It's not enough I'm broken and damaged inside and out with migraines, crippling depression, weakness, a stomach from fucking hell itself which means I spend my life sick in the bathroom every goddamned day, my hair which fell out in clumps due to poor health and which does so again now, a neck which grew out of alignment and hurts every fucking day of my life or that I'm not-so-slowly going blind with nearsightedness and catarcats in my fucking 20's, I need poverty I can't escape, I need homelessness which I've had and which always looms so close, I need the inability to fucking hold down a job (in ways that people can't fucking understand, physically and mentally), I need cars that never work, and credit that's trashed by all of the above, I need people to steal from me, take everything I own from my home, fuck me over and come out on top too? I need my cat to die a slow and painful death of cancer, after borrowing more money I can never pay back for two surgeries, when he was the only one thing in my life I had that was there for me all those years, even that I had to watch wither and die horribly. I need shit after shit after shit to go wrong and for it to never, not for a fucking moment, to let up? I sit and I think about how much I've gone through and I can't for one fucking moment, figure out why. Why it's all happened to me, why my luck is not only non-existent, it's so bad that my own family can't believe how much happens to me. That when I call, they simply shake their heads and ask "what is it now?" because they know it never stops.
I can't do it anymore. I can't do any of it. I could fill a sea with the tears I've shed. And none of it ever matters. I stopped trying because I thought, maybe, maybe if I don't even try, I won't fail. But the failures find me and blow down my door and beat me in the middle of the night anyway. I've been broken so many times I'm so damaged that I can never heal. And still the blows rain down on me.
The car barely gets us the five miles to-and-from my Love's work. A job, I might add that he despises with every fiber of his being to the point that he gets sick thinking about getting up to go in there. I've tried to be there when I could to do the little I can with running around in absurd circles of extra work and driving to take small, temporary jobs when I can. They're four times as much strain on a car that can't handle it already in a place where there simply isn't any other means. To get food, to get work, to get clothes, to pay the bills (physically go and pay the bills) you have to have a car. There simply does not exist other means of transport and we can barely get by as it stands. We hover on the edge of the void. One blink of an eye and we fall. There's nothing to support us and nothing left in reserve. We bleed it all out every single day and only find ourselves that much more weakned for our struggles.
And I can't do it anymore. It never gets better. No matter how many times people say it will, it doesn't. It's just pauses between the pain. It's just breaths between the horrors. I can't see what I've seen and live through what I've lived and still take it coming every single day. I can't. I just can't. I'm so broken.
~ flowers bloom near Memory and Dream
at 8/5/2004 02:50:07 PM ~
~
