But here I go. Stepping onto the plank again.
I should have stayed. Sure, I would have practically starved myself and possibly frozen to death walking back and forth to work to save money, but I would have a job come June.
My hands are tied with the rope of this crappy economy.
I can't believe I'm here again. At this place where both options seem like the right one. But they both could be wrong, since I'm apparently not a very good judge of options.
And I'm apparently having hot flashes. It's 68 in the apt and I feel like I'm gonna die.