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Well, it happened a bit ago, but they did. I've recently rewatched The Guild, and it starts like that. Kind of hit home too much, since that's happened. Feels like a few times.

I really only got to see them twice, or really I talked to them twice. Once I had the referral, which took months, my appointment was canceled with every other appointment I had. The plague going around and all that.

So after talking to them twice, they said the one thing I hate that therapists say. "Above their pay-grade" it's like. I don't give a s**t. I really just need the help. Then referred me to another place.

A place that when I called, it was just an automative massage. Telling me they only take in first time patients through walk-ins. I go there to do the walking, midst the plague and all, and guess what? Place has been closed, at least for new people. What the ********? How is that even a thing, right? I can't call them, I can't go in, I just have to wait until who the ******** knows. Call them, but it's the same message. I can't keep walking down when it's far as ******** just to check if they're open.

Similar thing to the place I was going to get my meds from. I was referred there, told that they'll get back to me once services are open again. That was months ago, I called recently. Still nothing.

Ha, I'm just getting zero help. It's almost brutal how bad life quickly became. It's like the universe is telling me to just give up.

Did some math too, even if I somehow quit drinking, smoking, and cut all of my spending to only things from the 99 cent store, I still wouldn't be able to save up enough money by the end of the year for a deposit. That's assuming that I somehow find a place willing to rent to me too.

I know no one reads my journal, since I don't think any of my old friends even come onto Gaia. Not that I recognize most people on my friend's list. Also I'm pretty sure most of my long-gone friends were on another account. Even if someone did, no one really gives a s**t about me.

But it makes me feel better posting these. Ever since Philip died I haven't had anyone to talk too, and for a moment it makes me feel like someone cares. Even if it's not real.

I'm wondering if this eventually turn into some long suicide manifesto, where every entry just shows more of how ******** up things are. I doubt it. I'm not brave enough to go through with it or anything.

It's almost too fitting though.

Entries on a journal on a dead site, that no one will ever see.