I've had a rather hard month. My lease ended on my old basement room. I was scrambling like hell to find someplace within my budget before that lease ended. Craigslist and I were old friends. I thought I had a chance at one place, roommate to one of my co-workers. I went to see the place, told the guy I liked it despite the uphill climb to get there, and me with no car.
I filled out the application and waited. This was just days before my lease ended, so naturally I was kinda antsy to hear from him. Two days later, I finally got an email from him, saying someone else had taken the room before me. I was never told there was competition.
I looked into rooms in Hull, at the advice of a couple of co-workers, and found a studio apartment within my budget, but it wouldn't be available until after I moved out. None of my other leads had panned out, so I gathered what stuff I could and moved it temporarily into a Motel 6 in Braintree. $110/day. I even had the guy send me an application ahead of time so I could bypass the wait for that.
Days passed, and the day came for me to see it. I fought my way to Hull, had to do some walking because I got off the bus too soon, but I finally saw the place. It was small, It only had a microwave and a small fridge, but it was adequate for the price and it was a block from the beach. Cool, I thought. I'll take it.
I told him I really needed to move in NOW, but he needed to run it by the owner, oh, and he needed $2700 for me to move in.
Long story short, a week passed before I was approved, In the time between moving out and then I spent $1300, and had no money to move in. The guy knew I was spending money at a motel, but he kept delaying it, he said because there was a problem with my SSN, and I had bad credit. But he was willing to work with me and the owner.
But by then I was nearly out of money. I moved to a cheaper motel that was not within commuting distance to work, and thankfully, my employer was willing to let me work from the motel temporarily.
Temporarily seems to be my word of the month.
You don't realize who cares about you and who doesn't until you ask for money. I needed $2700 to move into that place, and at one time I had $1800. The owner wouldn't work with me on moving in with less. I asked my family for help and have heard nothing back from them. I put a posting on Facebook, lightheartedly asking those who could to send money to my PayPal account. They seemed to think it was a joke,
On the second night I stayed at the second motel, I had a crisis of faith in humanity. I gave real thought to broadcasting my live suicide, because I could see no light at the end of the tunnel. In all the years I was homeless, I frequently had thoughts of suicide, even jumping off a railroad bridge. I wrote a script about it, a short film. But I didn't do it, because I still had some hope left.
Just a couple of days ago, I temporarily lost hope.
I mean, why should people care that I've spent far more money than I have just to get moved into a new place? Why is it so hard for me to move? My daughter even found a new place to live, but I can't. I don't understand why every little aspect of my life has been so difficult.
Even when I found a place to live after moving to Boston there were issues. A freezing basement, a short-term lease that couldn't be renewed, neighbors that argued day and night and housemates that refused to pay their share of an electric bill that I took over. I seemingly had plenty of time to find a new place, but one thing or another has come up, One obstacle or another, and the biggest is money.
A small glimmer of hope remains. But whatever happens needs to happen soon. Or that hope will fade, and the thoughts that this life isn't worth living will return.
Or maybe I'm just getting what I deserve. I just don't know anymore. Right now my writing is about the only thing keeping me going, and I can't help but to dump misery on my characters.
Write what you know.
If you want to help, you can send money via my PayPal account: michaelharrisonfox@yahoo.com.
If not, I'll understand. I can't offer anything except my writing.
I filled out the application and waited. This was just days before my lease ended, so naturally I was kinda antsy to hear from him. Two days later, I finally got an email from him, saying someone else had taken the room before me. I was never told there was competition.
I looked into rooms in Hull, at the advice of a couple of co-workers, and found a studio apartment within my budget, but it wouldn't be available until after I moved out. None of my other leads had panned out, so I gathered what stuff I could and moved it temporarily into a Motel 6 in Braintree. $110/day. I even had the guy send me an application ahead of time so I could bypass the wait for that.
Days passed, and the day came for me to see it. I fought my way to Hull, had to do some walking because I got off the bus too soon, but I finally saw the place. It was small, It only had a microwave and a small fridge, but it was adequate for the price and it was a block from the beach. Cool, I thought. I'll take it.
I told him I really needed to move in NOW, but he needed to run it by the owner, oh, and he needed $2700 for me to move in.
Long story short, a week passed before I was approved, In the time between moving out and then I spent $1300, and had no money to move in. The guy knew I was spending money at a motel, but he kept delaying it, he said because there was a problem with my SSN, and I had bad credit. But he was willing to work with me and the owner.
But by then I was nearly out of money. I moved to a cheaper motel that was not within commuting distance to work, and thankfully, my employer was willing to let me work from the motel temporarily.
Temporarily seems to be my word of the month.
You don't realize who cares about you and who doesn't until you ask for money. I needed $2700 to move into that place, and at one time I had $1800. The owner wouldn't work with me on moving in with less. I asked my family for help and have heard nothing back from them. I put a posting on Facebook, lightheartedly asking those who could to send money to my PayPal account. They seemed to think it was a joke,
On the second night I stayed at the second motel, I had a crisis of faith in humanity. I gave real thought to broadcasting my live suicide, because I could see no light at the end of the tunnel. In all the years I was homeless, I frequently had thoughts of suicide, even jumping off a railroad bridge. I wrote a script about it, a short film. But I didn't do it, because I still had some hope left.
Just a couple of days ago, I temporarily lost hope.
I mean, why should people care that I've spent far more money than I have just to get moved into a new place? Why is it so hard for me to move? My daughter even found a new place to live, but I can't. I don't understand why every little aspect of my life has been so difficult.
Even when I found a place to live after moving to Boston there were issues. A freezing basement, a short-term lease that couldn't be renewed, neighbors that argued day and night and housemates that refused to pay their share of an electric bill that I took over. I seemingly had plenty of time to find a new place, but one thing or another has come up, One obstacle or another, and the biggest is money.
A small glimmer of hope remains. But whatever happens needs to happen soon. Or that hope will fade, and the thoughts that this life isn't worth living will return.
Or maybe I'm just getting what I deserve. I just don't know anymore. Right now my writing is about the only thing keeping me going, and I can't help but to dump misery on my characters.
Write what you know.
If you want to help, you can send money via my PayPal account: michaelharrisonfox@yahoo.com.
If not, I'll understand. I can't offer anything except my writing.
No comments:
Post a Comment