i want to travel

Hi. Most of you know me and my struggle already. I get kicked out of my house because my parents found out that I’m bi and I’m dating a girl. I lost my job at their flower shop and I was left with nothing. My ex boyfriend at that moment told everyone (and that’s how my parents found out) I know about this and spread some lies. He took my dog and a lot of my stuff. He stalked me. He found my tumblr as well and I had to make a new account. For few months I lived with my friend, on the floor in her room.

I get half time job and finally found small room for myself.

I have asthma and stomach problems. Also few months ago I was diagnosed with depression, OCD and social phobia. I started therapy that is helping me a lot.

This is all the meds I’m taking:

And how much they cost:

It’s more than 500zł. Two weeks ago I end up in the hospital because I pass out after asthma attack. I got spirometry:

And I had to stay there for a week and a half. After I get out I got fired from my job because I was absent for too long in their opinion.

Today I was in Social care place to ask if they could give me some money. And you know what? I was diagnosed with depression five months ago and it’s not long enough for them and also asthma is so common that I can’t get money for that. I’m healthy enough to work. So in the end I can get 80zł. My meds costs 500zł, my rent is 800, I need to pay for my phone bill and I need money for food and they want to give me 80zł.

So I had to ask you again. Until I find any job, can you help me a little? I know it’s rude of me to ask again, but please, help me one last time. I’m really gonna be homeless soon and I’m really scared.

If you can send anything, do that via paypal (please send only as for family/friends or as a gift). My email:  [email protected]

I steeled myself and turned off the car.

Everyone’s born with one. A reaper. People say nobody’s reaper looks the same, like everyone’s personal terrifying snowflake of death. No one knows for certain, though, because you can only see your own reaper. 

Very little is actually known about them. It’s hard to study something you can never touch.

The car door slammed shut more loudly than I’d intended. Now that the engine was off, the only other sounds were the wind softly trickling through the brown grass and the soles of my sneakers on the pavement.

For miles around me, there was only grassland, flat, empty. I turned, round and round, searching.

And saw nothing.

When you’re born, your reaper is far away. From that moment, it starts to move closer. Sometimes it’s slow, not even an inch over years. Sometimes you look up, and it’s standing face to face with you.

The things you do can affect how quickly it moves. My grandfather confessed that his reaper started moving faster the day he first smoked a cigarette. Drunks report getting behind the wheel of their cars only to see their reaper sitting beside them.

They say you never touch your reaper until the day you die.

My reaper disappeared about three weeks ago.

I’m not sure exactly when it happened. It isn’t close enough to always be in the same room with me, and it isn’t like I’m constantly checking to see how close it is.

But I usually do catch glimpses of it in the hallways of my office, lingering near the doorway while I wait in line at the coffee shop, watching as I get in my car in the morning. And one day, I just…didn’t.

It was gone.

It. When did I start calling it “It?” Not it, him. He. My reaper’s not an it. He.

Was it my parents or a teacher who first told me to stop calling him a him? Don’t personify it. Don’t give death that kind of power in your life. Your reaper is not a person. Your reaper does not have a gender. Your reaper does not have a name.

When did I start listening to them? When did I lose his name?

I spent the first few days in denial. I just wasn’t looking in the right places, I told myself. Just because I didn’t see it (him) didn’t mean it was gone.

But I didn’t see it (him him him) anywhere. Not in the grocery store parking lot, not in the stairs of my apartment building, not in the long dusty stacks of the library.

So I turned to the internet. 

Reaper Disappeared

My reaper is gone

I can’t see my reaper

What does it mean if I can’t find my reaper

I found all sorts of articles and forums on reapers. People freaking out because their reaper was moving faster, people trying to figure out why their reaper was farther away, people arguing over what it meant if their reaper’s appearance changed.

No one claimed their reaper had suddenly just disappeared.

Reapers aren’t people.

My mother was firm.

Reapers don’t have names.

She told me over and over until I learned to stop talking about it.

Until I started to doubt what I had heard.

Reapers never talk.

But that didn’t mean I forgot.

There wasn’t anyone I could talk to. How would I even start? What did this even mean if he was gone?

Had I discovered the cure for death? Was I going to live forever?

Or was I simply going to have to walk through life not knowing when death would come for me?

One way or another, I had to be certain he was gone.

I got into my car and started driving.

I couldn’t see anything but brown grass and broken concrete.

Maybe if I could just see a little bit farther, I thought as I scrambled on top of my car. I perched on top of it uncertainly, scanning the horizon for any sign.

I started to scream.

Where are you and Why are you doing this and Please, I can’t take this and I don’t understand, please.

Please.

I don’t want to live forever.

I don’t want to watch everyone die.

I don’t want to be alone.

Please, don’t let me be alone.

I whimpered the last ones into my knees, curled up on the ground beside my car, then whispered the name I heard him say so many years ago.

“Isa, please.”

After a few minutes I calmed myself, swallowing deep breaths of air. I unfolded my body and went to stand up.

Isa was standing over me.

“Sorry about that,” he said as I recoiled, falling back against the car.

“You’re talking,” I stated dumbly.

“Well, yes. That shouldn’t come as a total surprise. We have spoken before.”

“You said one word to me when I was a kid,” I replied indignantly, fear turning to anger, “And my mom sent me to a child psychologist because I kept insisting you talked. And where have you been? Reapers aren’t just supposed to disappear!”

He shrugged. “There was something I had to take care of, sorry.” He smiled a bit ruefully. That was something else reapers weren’t supposed to do, and it must have shown in my face.

He crouched down beside me, ignoring how I flinched backwards.

“Look, there are some things we need to discuss.” He held out his hand, “Let’s go somewhere we can talk.”

I stared at his hand. “Look, I know I don’t want to live forever and all, but…that doesn’t mean I want to die right now or anything.”

“You’re not going to die,” Isa said, mouth twitching upwards, “Not for a good while, not if I can help it. Most of what you think you know about us is wrong, okay?”

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t be afraid of you?” I hedged.

He shook his head. “No, that’s not what I meant at all. But you can trust me.”

“That’s…not very comforting,” I muttered. He waited, patiently, hand outstretched.

I’ve seen other people getting gift cards but I like money lol *only us*

REBLOG TO SAVE A BROKE LIFE LIKE MINE

Haven’t had my computer, but this was Sunday, not today. I just moved into a new apt in a New England town and was on my way to the store to get some basic things that I didn’t realize I forgot to get. Like coffee filters, for instance.

I wouldn’t call myself a hipster by any stretch, but I live in a very hipstery town. The closest place is Trader Joe’s, and I was in the mood for some Mandarin Orange Chicken from the frozen section, and if you’ve never had it… it’s just… so, so good. So I’m walking to Trader Joe’s with my grocery bag, and I see this path that heads right up to the parking lot. I get closer and I see there’s some homeless guys between me and TJ’s. No biggie, there’s homeless people all over the place where I live. It’s depressing, but it’s the town. And here’s where things go south.

I’m a Yankees fan. I get yelled at by people for wearing my Yankees hat, which is stupid, but it happens. I’m walking up to the parking lot when I see there’s a chain link fence blocking me from getting in there that wraps its way all around the entire back of this complex that TJ’s is in. I’m standing there, looking around, trying to figure out the way to get in… and that’s when I notice one of the homeless guys is staring me down, super hard, like a death stare type of look. I figured he was trying to figure out what the hell I was doing, so I turned and said “Oh, I thought I could walk through here, I guess not.” and he goes, “GET BACK TO NEW FUCKIN’ YORK YOU CUNT!” and spits in my general direction. There are actually a few aggressive panhandlers in town and they hate out-of-towners. Like… a ton.

I was like.. ok, not cool, and at this point, the rest of the people there were looking at us, probably another 12-14 homeless, hanging out at this spot and chatting. So I look at him and go, very innocently, with no mal-intent, “Are you high or something? Why don’t you go home man,” because that’s what you’d say to like… your friend who is drunk… only to realize that he has no home, and what I just said to him is like… the dickest thing you could possibly say.

Immediately he stands up and starts walking towards me, as do about 4 other guys. But at the last second, one of them stands up, gets in the spitter dude’s face and goes “I don’t think he meant it to be mean, but if he did, you kind of earned that, man” and sat his ass down. He comes over to me, asks me if I’m from New York, I said, “No, I’m from here” and he apologizes for the other guy and starts asking how my day’s been going, etc and we proceed to talk about baseball for 25 minutes or so. I’m not sure if his story is true or not, but he said he was in the military and didn’t get any kind of help after he got out, lost his house and car because of depression and moved to where I live. I didn’t know what to do, so I got them all a case of water and snacks as a thank you for not murdering me. That one guy didn’t say thank you though. He was kind of a butthole.

TL;DR Told a homeless man to go home, almost had to fight off a homeless army, was saved by a homeless veteran, bought them water and snacks.

By: Boof_Dawg