Dream Commune

I have this house with four bedrooms. Tri-level, early childhood memories. It's great, if the neighborhood wasn't littered with racist King of the Hill cartoons mumbling in their yards each day. Trying to leave David is a back and forth. I look at Zillow and I think, fuck. We got our house during a time where interest rates were as dirt cheap as this generation is going to benefit from economically within this flawed system of ours. Pandemic season! So renting now is that much plus a thousand extra for anything halfway decent. So, I'm back to dreaming of buying him out again. His mom co-signed for us. Because we're bums without pay stubs. I work under the table for good reason. My grandpa's little bit of life savings compensated for the rest of us getting this house. My mom could help me immediately if she wanted to. But she's from that same generation that is butt raping ours and believes boot straps and grit will get you where you need to go in America. I'm sorry, Mom. But you guys and the votes you made, piddled away even a fraction of momentum belonging to that unrealistic standard and belief system.

I just got off the phone with Becca and believing in having her and Jamie as my roommates in this place, David finally relinquished seems to be the bandage my entire life has been bleeding out for so long and requiring access to for equal amount. The only roommate I've ever had was David. So I'm not well versed. But anything right now feels better than David. Also, not like it fucking matters, but Nick has ceased correspondence again. I think if he does reach out a second time with his poor excuses involving distraction, I think it's my turn to ghost without any time frame for reconnection.