The freeloaders are even controlling when I sing! Yeah, I’d like to crank up the tunes and sing, but I can’t because I have to wait for a phone call that I wouldn’t have to wait for if it weren’t for them.

Always with me, always with them. I may no longer be able to see or hear them, but my life will be made to revolve around them till the day I die.

You can no longer call a therapist’s office and expect someone to answer. It’s like that with doctors, so I should’ve figured as much. Everything’s voicemail these days. I left a message about making an appointment and I hope to get a call back soon enough. I don’t know if the fact that I’m long-distance will be a problem or not, but we’ll see.

Later...

No one will call me back. I wonder why that is. I left messages with two different therapists 4 hours ago and no one’s returned my call. Is it cuz I’m long-distance? I also left Paul a message letting him know that I was trying to line up therapy appointments.

Meanwhile, I’m still plagued with all kinds of emotions that just won’t quit, asking myself why I didn’t kill myself years ago. And since I didn’t, why does God let me live? I mean, what in the world is he having me live for? What is my purpose? Since I have nothing to offer anyone else in this life, I guess the purpose of him having me exist is so I can be miserable most of the time. How did my life get to be such a mess? Just when I think I’m making a change for the better, life gets worse! So many if-onlys going through my head. If only God had given me quiet neighbors for a change, if only the ones I did have had left me the fuck alone, if only I never said a word to these people, if only, if only, if only! Since I’ll never have a kid who depends on me, a job I love and am really into, or anything of value to offer Tom or anyone else, I know this life of mine really is all about pain, suffering and punishment. It’s got to be, cuz I can’t see anything else waiting for me. If there was something else waiting for me, somebody that depended on me, or some niche in the job world, it would’ve been by now. No one needs me and there’s nothing I can do that’d make much of an impact on my life or the lives of others. All I am is a living, breathing object taking up space on this earth.

Later...

Tom’s been making efforts to cheer me up, but I don’t think even he will be able to really cheer me up till this thing is over. And I got a long, long time before it’s over, and when it’s “over” it still won’t be over and I doubt it ever will be. I appreciate his trying, though.

Although it’s hard, I’m still keeping up with the cleaning, working out, singing, and the usual things I do. I read a lot, too.

Depression and anxiety usually put a dent in my appetite, but not over the last few days. I’ve been bouncing between 113-115 pounds, but I know I’ll lose the rest of my weight eventually because I’m still almost sure I’ll end up jailed. Why would I get the vibes I’ve been having about it if I were wrong? Pure paranoia? God, I wish! Vibes like this scare me when I consider my 80% accuracy rate.

I want a potbellied pig. I saw one on TV and they’re so cute! They live like cats, from what Tom tells me, going in litter boxes. I hope they don’t stink, but I don’t think it’d matter what with how much these rats and mice stink.