Pandæmonium

October 28, 2020 and I'm full of pizza.

This feeling is now a treasured luxury for me.

Had to beg strangers online and someone heard my plea.

Probably should have considered buying groceries, or art supplies, or something else with the $20 they sent.

But I had asked for money for pizza, and pizza was what I truly wanted. 

11 slices left, so it isn't as if it went as quickly as it came. 

Things that last are more important to me than ever now.

Reminded of someone telling me, years ago, about energy and how some people who are depressed finally get a boost and that's when they end up killing themselves. 

What a horrible concept.

I don't want to die, but with the sudden energy I do have, I can see a little more clearly the darkness ahead.

I live day-to-day knowing in the back of my mind that one day there will be no more days like these.

I will wake up in January with a $10,000 bill and an eviction notice on my door (or so I fear).

If my electricity doesn't get shut off first.

What was I supposed to do differently?

Started this year with a job and a Netflix account, even got a subscription to the New York Times.

By February I was out of work - for bogus reasons frankly.

If I were someone else I would sue them.

I think by March the news was talking about the virus.

Pretty sure the shutdown started at the end of May.

Feels like I lost a month of time somehow. 

Someone died in my building and for three days I gagged on the smell of their death - building managers said they'd been found after three days or so and an ozone fan was spreading the smell around. 

But something is off, because I can't remember if the lockdown came before or after that.

I just know the shutdown was when the screaming started. 

The street was filled with people it seemed.

One girl in particular - I know her by her voice now - and even people who live in the building - were outside just screaming horrendous things.

They are still doing that to this day - she was just kicked out of the building earlier tonight - no clue how she's getting in.

I have recordings.

Maybe my neighbors hate me but I have no idea why - no legitimate idea why anyway.

People can be paid to do all sorts of things I guess.

Some kind of resentment or jealousy?

Sometimes my pronoia kicks in and I want to believe it must be for a better reason but I've yet to pinpoint just what that is - they've literally been screaming "get out" "go home stay home" among other things.

Like "I hope you die" and "kill yourself bitch".

Is this some kind of psychological experiment?

It's all a bit too overwhelming for me but I'm trying to succinctly summarize what I've been through this year.

My apartment has been turned into a torture box that I still don't want to give up.

I have nowhere to go and no way to get there even if I did want to move.

I need to explain these things properly so that anyone can understand me.

I know how easy it is to sound like you're just overblown and dismissed as "crazy".

There's been screaming. There's been noise that I don't remember ever being a problem in all the years I've lived here. There's been pollution filling my apartment. There's been banging and clanging and awfulness at all hours, involving all sorts of people. Garbage trucks, city vehicles, even sirens from the firefolks, ambulance, police. My PTSD is worse than ever and these sounds are not just an annoyance. When they get me at just the right frequency, it's like being hit in the brain. I can still feel it long after the sound has come and gone. It hurts, and I feel like I'm being stressed to death.

One day I might have some kind of aneurysm and be the next lady found dead and alone days and days later.

It's a horrible thought.

I don't deserve this, but I suppose it's safe to say no one ever does.

I need to take a break from this, but that's a start to explaining. 

I'm distracted by doors slamming and water running.

Like I need to publish this quick or else risk never getting it out at all.

***

Frustrated and distracted, there's so much more to say.

The bigger things that aren't just about me, but about the world at large, at play, all around me.

The endless banging garbage trucks draw my attention to their necessity.

The screaming folks outside, actors as they may be, represent people who need help desperately.

Help from people who are not armed and would not even "accidentally" kill them if things get wonky.

Fearing eviction itself is something millions of people are going through right now.

Don't even get me started on the protests.

All of this could be channeled into dreaming up new policies for a better future

things to ask of our elected public servants

things that need to be changed.

My anecdotal experiences are just one example of much bigger issues.

And that's where there's any importance in sharing them beyond trying to save myself.

Or at least leaving behind some clues as to why the future may turn out for the worse.

***

There's got to be more to say but I need to write it elsewhere and then copy paste

afraid to lose what I've already said

I don't know why I'm filled with dread

hoping I'm wrong for the millionth time

and I promise I didn't mean to rhyme

a surprise to me as well

call me Persephone

there's no such thing as perfect

but I feel like an angel trapped in hell