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After what feels like exhaustive amounts of looking, I can’t seem to find a studio or one bedroom apartment that I can afford (also factoring in electric & internet) that isn’t in the absolute shadiest of neighborhoods. I don’t even get off work until after midnight, so I’ll be entering my apartment at prime criminal hour. Sigh.

I thought it was all figured out before, then that changed. Then, I finally psych myself into believing that I can succeed, be happy and not kill myself living alone and now that seems impossible.

I guess the discussion with my supervisor about tacking down specific work hours so that I can look for a second job will have to happen this week. Then the second job hunt begins. I mean, it only took me 6 months to find my current job so this should be cake, right?

I don’t know why I even discuss the future, it never seems to work out for me. It doesn’t seem to matter what the plan is. It doesn’t seem to matter how much I want something. It is what it is. I’ll be sleeping on a couch or air mattress at my mom’s house forever, it seems.