It’s incredibly easy to just not care, or be happy for them.
I talked to someone on the bus whose cousin in Iowa was miserable and busting their ass collecting recycling (Iowa being one of just a few states that does bottle deposits) every day before they ripped off the government and now they’re the closest to happy they’ve been in a long time. I don’t care about anyone’s tax dollars. I would not have cared back when I used to have a job and was paying taxes. “Your tax dollars” are a fucking imaginary concept. You’re paying the same amount irregardless, the federal government is paying the same irregardless, all of this is a bucket of ████ poured into the vacuum of space, it’s a grain of sand blown to the wind, it’s a pale blue dot in a sunbeam. Who the fuck cares? If you didn’t have your fucking phone or your TV or whatever or a book to read or a hobby or something you wouldn’t care because this does not effect you. Go outside. Take a walk. Look at the sky. Look at the horizon. Look at the few stars that shine through the haze. Think about something that makes you sad. Think about something that makes you happy. Talk to someone. Watch a movie. Get a fucking life.
It doesn’t effect your life, that I get close to $300 a month in food stamps. It doesn't effect your life, that I don’t work and dgaf about working. You are angry because some fucking mook told you to be angry. This month I think I actually started gaining weight. I don’t think I went a day eating less than a thousand calories. That never fucking happens. For once I’m not near death! Be happy for me! Who cares if I do drugs and don’t “contribute to society”? That’s a made up concept. It’s a secular God who’s stolen the empathy I know you used to have.
Posted with my Apple iMeth 12 Mini™️
You know, I tend to be unenthused by the idea of housing, because I tend to become lazy and lethargic and “go feral” when I’m sedentary and don’t have anyone hectoring me to get up and move around, buuuuut it’s a place to stash my things, and shower. And maybe, just maybe, my friend will be proud of me. (:
I’m trying to teach myself some self discipline. I am about to leave this portapotty having only hit my pipe once. Insha’allah.
Hey, just because you have a safe place to stay and keep your stuff doesn't mean you can't go "urban camping" if you need to be around and on the street. It can be hard to shift your lifestyle so dramatically all at once. I think getting housing and/or perhaps healthcare might be awesome next steps. Assuming you're in the US, Medicaid may be an option that helps a lot, assuming you don't already have that.
And I have Medicaid. Really should get back on my hormones.
It would make my income a little harder because I can’t say I’m a “homeless trans girl” anymore, though the last part is kind of a lie since I stopped calling myself a trans woman last July (I’m still “trans/non-binary femme” but idk).
Let’s see how selling uh um uhhhh jewelry works out.
I mean, you could also just fib a little. No shame in that.