Duane

For anyone who may be here and not on FB any more...I'm moving. 10 AM 4/26, 6519 Floyd St, Mission, 66202. Whether you can help with schlepping stuff or not, there are many of you I haven't seen in years if you are free and just want to pop by.

So. I'm going to go scream into a damn pillow for a while and try to deal with this *without* checking myself into the local looney bin...which the medical insurance won't pay for.
I don't want to do this any more.

And lets not forget that I'm increasingly unable to work, and I can't support myself for three-to-five years without income while the f'ing courts and government decide whether I'm "disabled *enough*.

I can't even get a *wheelchair* that will fit in this damn house (that I know exists, but the only company in town that provides wheelchairs says it doesn't) so I can get off this damn foot and let it heal, and until it heals I can't even start the process of getting a prosthetic.

Yes, I'm aware it's a liar...but really, the thought I'll never be able to go get *groceries* on my own again, let alone be able to do anything fun, is causing me to listen to it a little closer than I might have at the beginning of winter.

At this point, I'm feeling like I'm going to be trapped in these three rooms, dependent on others, for the rest of my damn life, and the little loud voice in the back of my head is telling me, "It's not worth it"

The electric cart now *dead*. Won't even turn on. The retailer wants half what it would cost to buy a damn *car* just to send someone over here to look at it, and I know how that conversation will go: "You put lithium batteries in it, the damage is all *your* fault, you'll have to buy another one."

I am angry, and frustrated, and feeling trapped, so take this with a grain of salt. Right now, I don't see a way out. At all. This life is going *nowhere*, and is increasingly feeling like a prison.

(Crosspost from FB, because I know a lot of you aren't even there any more, and I want to scream into the Void for a bit.)

Rant incoming. (No, I am not asking for money. Part of the damn problem is feeling like a leech on my friends.)