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August 29, 2016

I am at my storage unit. I spent most of my money on a hard drive because my laptop is running out of room.

The girl's Facebook page is now populated with imagery of sisterhood and woman-ness. I feel like a virus or something. A boil that was lanced because she saw my very essence as inherently disruptive to her being a woman.

I feel forgettable.

I feel insignificant.

I feel like she just saw every one of our issues as being rooted in my sex and my issues.

I saw our issues as more of a conflict of personalities that could be remedied through greater understandings of each other.

Even my possessiveness could be mitigated. I'd say my possessiveness is my biggest, most difficult to avoid issue. In a relationship such as ours, an open one, I wanted to know if there were potential interests or whatever. I'd just want to know everything. Maybe more than I should have. But I also said we could be less personal and that would mean not really talking but hooking up but having our separate lives.
I would be lying, though. If I said that wouldn't break my heart, too.

I stood with her, crawled with her, held her when she cried, and when she's finally attained some happiness, and I'm low enough to kick, she's just not interested in a relationship.
After all the shit she gave me for not prioritizing her, when I was doing as much as I reasonably could to see her despite working a job with unpredictable hours, and living in a car.

I feel if you put someone through that stuff, you can't just drop them like that. You can't just torture someone, to do better, then drop them. You have to stop torturing them first.
but being left is being left, and it would hurt either way, and i would be upset either way. I'm just looking for what upsets me about this, so I can cope. But that's what I'm upset about. The demands for love, the crying the diabetic episodes in which she'd say cruel things to me, drive away drunk, tell me to get the fuck out, insult me.

There were times it would have been easy to leave. I wish she had left when it was easy for me, not for her. But her selfishness is profound.

Getting through work is hard, and it's not a hard job. I got called into the office on my eleventh day of work with one day off, and there was no acknowledgement that this kind of thing takes a toll. Just criticisms. I covered so many shifts for this liar who said she was too depressed to come in. I dont think they even have to pay me extra for it.

Yesterday, to cope, aside from popping pills, I listened to do androids dream of electric sheep. I find it comforting to listen to this alternate version of San Francisco. A version in which this park has been laid to radioactive waste, a version in which no one is boring, and everything is fascinating. Darkly fascinating.
The newly constructed buildings tower over me, and I see them as tombs of decay. Because I am living through the fragmentation of so many lives by the influx of the rich and intelligent. And boring. These shiny tributes to excess. While I walk amongst the piss and shit and needles, disposing of them to make people comfortable.
As I listen to the story of future San Francisco, I see the radioactive dust coating all of these buildings, but only some can see it. Only some can experience it. And we'll be gone soon.

This morning, a moment of synchronicity, when in the book, a character refers to stories from the past, about the future, the future that became the present, but in that future there was no fallout. A character asks if she finds that depressing. No, she doesn't.