I'm so glad I have another chance at being a person. I know I'm so lucky things went how they did. I thought going to this concert would be the last fun thing I ever did, before hotels, inevitably the street, realistically death. And now that I have this apartment (two shattered windows in less than a month, like four stolen packages now, broken bath tub, patio door, etc, like it's not luxury, it's a cry from average) I... I feel so guilty?
Every time I see someone living on the street, I wonder why that's happening to them and why somehow my friends and I pulled this off. I feel horrible that I want to see live music and pageantry and experience things. The closer the concert gets and the more stress I have from this apartment falling apart/theft/vandalism/freak accidents, I don't know. I feel bad for feeling anything. For being glad. For getting scared. I don't know how to juggle all of it. I don't even know what I'm feeling. I just know that I feel little, I feel small, I feel so fragile, like a child again, and I feel like maybe I don't deserve to live. That's so dramatic, but I'm???