This post was written in the Summer of 2008. When I had essentially hit rock bottom in my life. It was written in the moment & is not my life today.

it has been almost a year since i started living in the closet, the small tiny room in the transitional housing program i am in. the phone sometimes rings incessantly outside of my room, doors slam. 30 women drift down hallways, argue over packs of cigarettes, chores. Anything. sometimes women in the house argue over Nothing just to have something to do. i live with shelter bullies. they are usually the easiest to spot as they tend to be accusatory over small things, their body language is always guarded & they rarely Ever leave the House.

hence, i leave the house whenever possible, take my laptop & escape. i am reminded that i can go get a coffee & use wifi & feel like i am not living off of $339 a month. one of the things i am proud of is that my rent has been on-time since i moved into the house & that i am in good standing with the staff, even though we could use a new coordinator who actually Gives a damn. i am grateful when i see the street homeless with their backpacks & unshowered bodies i am glad that i can shower whenever i want.

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