This is an entry from May that I decided to post now. No matter what makes a day hard, I think what they all have in common is the run on sentence feel to it. There just never seems to be an end.

 

Wake up. There’s no water arriving. And I’m not sure why. And the committee won’t show up to meetings. And the plumber doesn’t want to work because he’s not being paid. But the committee doesn’t want to pay because he’s not working. The electricity has been bad lately. Coming in too high and burning out my light bulb, frying fridges. But I plugged my fridge back in, not wanting the food to spoil, deciding to risk it. It’s so hot that sweat is running down the inside of my elbow where my arm is bent. I’m so thirsty. I tried to make chocolate milk. There was barely any chocolate powder left so I just poured in a splash of milk. The milk is rotten. There’s not enough water to wash the dishes or the floors. The laundry’s piled up. My flip flops have a hole in them. Now sweat is running down my neck. People pay money for this in fancy spas, I tell myself. Sweating out the toxins. The mud seeps in through the hole of the flip flops. There are ants on the oil. I open up the margarine to make toast. It’s molding. Little flecks or balls of mold. I open the fridge. Ants are crawling in it. I pitch what’s left of the milk but I’m too scared to look at the yogurt. I’m so thirsty. The bucket of filtered water is getting low. I’ll have to find some soon to filter. I’m kind of waiting for the day to be over. My parents come in two days and I can’t help but feel like I’m not even on the surface of the world anymore.

 

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