I am here.

I'm sitting in my little cubicle of a room, trying to bear the roaring television in the living room long enough to write this. Doug and Margaret are here. They're visiting us and Lucille tonight, as is usual.

I've been drifting just a bit.

I started to work on that portrait of the children again, but I can't find the picture. I'm not very upset about it. As I've said many times before, I lost interest in all that stuff a long time ago.

All I want to do is escape. I can think of nothing else. I'm hoping something will come through with the government, but it'll be a long time before I even get the ball rolling with that. The most promising bit in the meantime is the credit card. If I get it, I'll buy an M1 and get back into recording. I think I need that more than anything. :: sigh ::

I just want some sort of resolution. Even my mom knows how miserable I am, and she's not one of the most perceptive people I know. Jesus. I can't take this much longer. The noise. The lack of privacy. The ache. I just need to find my way home. That's all I want. But it may be some time before I can get on with it. And that is the fact I'm not sure I can swallow.