  Another day of being broke, more bills piling up in the mailbox without a check from the insurance company to cover it. Not permitted to get a job, not able to cover even my minimum payments on my credit cards or to manage to keep my checking account balance in the black. Deposited a small check from selling a textbook, and it told me Id been in the negative again. How, I have no idea, nor do I have the energy to look into it. Just in case I freak out again. It was at the computer checking my finances that I did that.
I know why men in debt kill themselves  the insurance money, to save their families the pain of suffering through what mess theyve gotten themselves into. I know that helplessness. And I havent even amassed enough debt that selling my car wouldnt amend. Yet its the principle. Im trapped. Ive lost my way.
Nothing I can really do besides shift the debt around to someone who wont charge me late fees, ruin my already ruined credit. How am I ever going to get out of this house without good credit? Another day desperate to cut myself but instead Im laughing tears of defeat. Cant hit my head against the wall. Thatll show bruises too hard to hide. Cant kick anything.
Spraining my ankle will keep me from being able to get exercise. And then what?! Ill surely collapse. My stomach turns. Out of spite for myself and my situation, I make myself tea to better feel whats happening. Like, bring it on.
Called the attorney again today. Directly speaking to anyone would be too much for them, apparently. Always getting his paralegal who doesnt give a shit about my situation. Either doesnt care or is too stupid to call my cell, the number I leave with him. Always calls the house. And then never has my file in front of him, so he has no idea whats going on.
Guess he ought to call my house. More problems. My cell isnt working for some reason, although thats one bill Im current on. Not for long though, eh? Why cant I call out? I can receive calls.
Not that Im getting any. No one at my attorneys office is taking me seriously. No one calls back until way later, and then they have nothing but were working on it to tell me. No one understands how this is making me feel. No one cares that Im helpless. Got the stitches out today.
Looks like a horrendous scar Ive given myself. Wont that look pretty in a formal gown? Nothing is working. Deep denial of how crazed I feel is allowing me to get out the door now to make it to my psychiatrist appointment with Resnikoff in La Jolla. At least its got an ocean view, that place. I can get there early, sit in my parked car and cry my eyes out.
But Ive got to get there first. I might as well be drunk if Im going to allow myself to drive with tear-clouded eyes. Im just as distracted. Whats next? Exactly how much more can I endure? I wish my back was better so I could pick up something really heavy and throw it.
Preferably something made of glass so I can hear its destruction loud and clear. Shattered glass to scream for me. 
