I'm lucky to be alive. I mean that in the most real sense.

I'm lucky. I'm so fucking lucky that it's practically unbelievable.

I lived in my car and then on the street when I was constantly losing time and I somehow managed not to get killed. In fact, I was still able to use my wits to l get out of several situations where that was a likely outcome.

I was completely lost, and didn't really have anyone close to me for most of that time. If I had fallen in close with a junkie, I would have become a heroin addict. I would have done just about any drug that was put in front of me at that point. But somehow, I managed to avoid getting an addiction.

My luck didn't stop or start there. I was severely burned as a child, but not only survived but miraculously avoided serious burns to my face. My roommate on the burn unit, Alfonso, was not so lucky, he didn't make it.

I lost a lot of time and almost flunked out of high school. But I made it through by the skin of my teeth. I passed without turning in most of my homework. Somehow. Graduated 313th out of 317 students.

I fell in with purpleglitter and her friends, who took me off the street and gave me the means of learning the skills that lead to my short stretch of decent employment which in turn has allowed me to collect ssdi instead of ssi.

Being able to get assistance without ending up again on the street is another stroke of luck. And at this point, my still having a place to live is astounding.

And I'm still here to live in it. I've tried to kill myself too many times, and came very close to succeeding on a few occasions. But I'm still here. Somehow.

I have seen my share of bad things and been my share of bad places, but I am blessed. It's utterly amazing that things turned out so well for me. I'm so very incredibly lucky. I feel I must have one of those guardian angels like the characters that won't die regardless of how much you shoot at them on Star Trek.

i fell down again
after a talk with george
stressing paying the rent on time
i'm afraid he's going to evict us if things don't shape up
and i don't know how things are going to shape up
i just froze in front of walgreens
luckily mutehalo was there to shoo people away
so i didn't get taken to the hospital
i'm afraid if this keeps up i won't be able to leave the house alone
i refuse to live like that
trapped
everything is collapsing
i'm going to get drunk tonight
i spent the rest of the money i have until the 2nd on some alcohol
stupid, i know
but right now i'm in a space that i don't care
i'm accused of being self-destructive
might as well prove them right
fuck it all

I can't deal with another confrontation with Bebe, so my new plan is to be overly-concerned.

Everytime I see her wobbly I've been asking, "are you feeling well? You don't look well. Are you sure your feeling well? Okay, you're sure?".

If I hear her fall down (which she does a lot), I ask, "Are you okay? That didn't sound good. Do you need some help? Are you sure you're okay? Are you really sure, that sounded horrendous."

Everytime she passes out somewhere other than her room or throws up I ask, "Do we need to take you to the hospital again? Are you sure? You don't seem to be okay, are you sure we shouldn't call someone? Are you really sure?"

Every time I'm simply sitting in the kitchen with her, I go on, "Have you called rehab yet today? You know this is going to kill you. You're ripping apart your innards. You're going to die a painful death from internal organ failure if you keep this up much longer, or you might fall over and hurt yourself badly. You know you should really stop."

These aren't things I just mention in passing or occasionally. I'm determined to say something along these lines everytime I see her. No respite! Either I'll drive her into rehab or I'll drive her away. Either is fine with me.