I share a birthday with the late Kim Jong-il, February 16th. It’s also the day Hezbollah was founded, in 1985. ☝️

You guys have really helped me start to turn my life around. I shit you not. I’ve gotten a few complements here for the way I write and that’s when it hit me—I’m not starving anymore, I’m starting to heal from years of being a fucked off skinny puppy; the brain fog was always the most tragic symptom of that, and it’s starting to evaporate in the sun. If anyone tells you that giving people like me money is “enabling” us, slap them in the face and call them a bitch.

(Don’t actually do that.)

So yeah, I’ve never been one to celebrate the worst day of my life—the day I was born—but let’s just sweep that inconvenient little Building 7 under the rug for now.

I still need to buy some new clothes, including a pack of socks and a pack of underwear; I’d love to find a nice skirt to wear, it’s been fucking forever. The butane stove I bought just before last month’s snowkakke was stolen, and it would be lovely if I could get cookware too so I can make noodles. I love noodles. 🍜

I also want to maybe start saving up to buy a car or a van or something when I get out of rehab (I’m gonna call today God damn it, if it isn’t too late). I don’t give a shit about housing—living in a van or something, and having some sort of hustle (which writing/blogging could be if my health continues to improve), has always been my goal. I would rather fuck myself with a rake than go back to being a normal tax-paying AmeriKKKan.

Venmo is preferred (@allthetimesivedied). DM me for the other ones.

Please don’t be shy about sharing my Venmo handle and my sob story,

When my friend talks to me again and we get married and their rich ass parents send me money I’ll return the favor.

As always, thank you.