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letterblade1. Jesus fuck, I have to move in ten days, and I don't even know to where yet. I'm not panicking, precisely. Just about 100% sure that it isn't going to work out, that the people I'm currently waiting to hear back from will blow me off, and I won't be able to find other opportunities because I suck at this and am a general failure at housing stuff, and I'll have to leave ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
illuminaut's and I'll be homeless again. Because that's how my life works.
2. Which is triggered by the moving and cleaning panic because I have to pack most of my stuff up this weekend, because somebody else needs to stay in the guest room. I...settled here. I got too comfortable, forgot it wasn't home. I forgot it was temporary, because my brain simply couldn't bear the thought that I'd be moving again in a month on top of everything else--moved in here just after E. dumped me. Which is hardly an excuse for settling in when I shouldn't have. But. It's why.
3. Nothing could have prepared me for moving my box of magic/altar gear; I nearly started crying just looking at it. The same damn box I packed back in Somerville, when I was first thrown it; it was the first thing I packed, and so carefully. The same box I left at E.'s when I was homeless, kept wishing I could use it more when I was suddenly drawn, so intensely, into magic. Unpacked it in Medford, in a temporary room that proved even more temporary than I thought. Packed it back up again to store at E.'s. Had to go get it when he dumped me. And I haven't touched it since. What's the use? I look at it, it's like any other box of odds and ends. Cryptic and dead.
4. Packed away my battered pocket paperback of the Book of the Law. Bought it in Westborough, when visiting family. It rode around in my pocket for weeks; I'd read it on the bus to work, when I was hurt, or lonely, or tired. It was--solace. I'm not sure that word had much meaning to me until then. And then, tonight, I found it at the bottom of the piles of stuff on my bedside table. There was that comfortable familiarity of having it in my hands; I opened it, read the first few verses, and. Cryptic, frightening, meaningless.
5. Because I'm not strong enough to keep going, in the magic, without someone to share it with. Because I'm not strong enough to keep looking for what is necessary when I have a warm bed and four walls and AC. Because I've managed to pretty much fritter away the summer. Because no matter how good I am, it'll never be good enough.
6. I have to move in ten days. See you all from the gutter, because I'm completely fucking incapable of taking care of myself.
illuminaut's and I'll be homeless again. Because that's how my life works.2. Which is triggered by the moving and cleaning panic because I have to pack most of my stuff up this weekend, because somebody else needs to stay in the guest room. I...settled here. I got too comfortable, forgot it wasn't home. I forgot it was temporary, because my brain simply couldn't bear the thought that I'd be moving again in a month on top of everything else--moved in here just after E. dumped me. Which is hardly an excuse for settling in when I shouldn't have. But. It's why.
3. Nothing could have prepared me for moving my box of magic/altar gear; I nearly started crying just looking at it. The same damn box I packed back in Somerville, when I was first thrown it; it was the first thing I packed, and so carefully. The same box I left at E.'s when I was homeless, kept wishing I could use it more when I was suddenly drawn, so intensely, into magic. Unpacked it in Medford, in a temporary room that proved even more temporary than I thought. Packed it back up again to store at E.'s. Had to go get it when he dumped me. And I haven't touched it since. What's the use? I look at it, it's like any other box of odds and ends. Cryptic and dead.
4. Packed away my battered pocket paperback of the Book of the Law. Bought it in Westborough, when visiting family. It rode around in my pocket for weeks; I'd read it on the bus to work, when I was hurt, or lonely, or tired. It was--solace. I'm not sure that word had much meaning to me until then. And then, tonight, I found it at the bottom of the piles of stuff on my bedside table. There was that comfortable familiarity of having it in my hands; I opened it, read the first few verses, and. Cryptic, frightening, meaningless.
5. Because I'm not strong enough to keep going, in the magic, without someone to share it with. Because I'm not strong enough to keep looking for what is necessary when I have a warm bed and four walls and AC. Because I've managed to pretty much fritter away the summer. Because no matter how good I am, it'll never be good enough.
6. I have to move in ten days. See you all from the gutter, because I'm completely fucking incapable of taking care of myself.