Hi, guys.

I just wanted to assure you that I am not dead, although sometimes it really seems like the universe is maybe trying to encourage me to give the fuck up and become a hobo.

A lot of things have happened in the past couple of months. I have decided, much to my regret, that there is a particular social group I am just going to have to give up on. They purport to welcome me, but either they don't know what that means, or they're lying to spare my feelings. Some of them are probably being earnest about it, but they can't or at least don't make up for the people who aren't. As Captain Awkward is fond of saying, people who like you act like they like you.

Conversely, people who like you act like they like you! I can commit more of my time now to the people who do in fact seem to value my presence. Some of them offer volunteer experience, some of them a chance to perform, occasionally some freelance work, and in at least one case I get the satisfaction of having long outlasted a number of betting pools whose existence I have suspected for many years.

The good things, in general, are very, very good. I feel like I've earned them on my own merits.

The bad things, on the other hand, are kind of dire, and most of them I have no control over. The short version is that we had another roommate ditch us on less than a week's notice, dumping us with his share of the rent, and then ignore everything we sent him about the utilities money he still owes. The landlady is not renewing the lease and I suspect is trying to annoy us out early by having workmen tromping through the place constantly. The power company has been bought by the Illuminati or something, and where we were previously annoyed when the bill went over $125, our last bill was for over $300. The entire state of Massachusetts is bitching about it. I've picked up a summer job, but it's not going to start soon enough or pay well enough to help much. So if anyone had a pile of $100 bills they were planning to set fire to, I would love to take them off your hands.

I am in kind of a state right now. Something started me thinking the other day about how I thought my life would turn out when I was like nineteen, and I ended up sobbing hysterically about a lot of terrible things that didn't eventually happen. I've gotten to the point where I get up to do things that I absolutely positively cannot put off, and then crawl right back into bed, because I'm utterly exhausted from a combination of constant anxiety and a tendency to wake up in a dead panic whenever air molecules knock against each other a little too loudly.

I do have people to talk to, and I have Jazmin to split things like groceries with, but I don't have any more Xanax, and since there's been a change in my insurance since the last time I did this, I won't be able to get in to see anyone new fast enough to make a difference.

So, that's why I haven't been writing much lately. It requires a level of concentration above what I'm able to muster right now on any topic of less than cosmic emotional importance. Nobody wants to hear me witter on about my terror of homelessness, and several of the more pleasant topics are things I'm obliged to keep under wraps, at least for the moment.