I’m fucked. It will get worse. You know, life as usual.
Follow me as I choose which medicines I can afford, whether or not I can eat, and when I will sleep on the street and risk my safety.
Poverty and homelessness affect what I can buy and reduce the life span of things I own.
I made money demonstrating a low-quality pendulum wave.
If you don’t like my interpersonal behavior, then you have a problem, not I.
You broke the social contract.
Whether he has a cognitive defect or he is simply a horrible person, it is unrealistic for us to believe he will support my recovery.
Today, an opportunity to become self-sufficient again unexpectedly appeared.
Supporting my recovery is less expensive than supporting my suffering.
Why do I help people who try to rob me?