Paris is Burning

I have attempted to rectify all that is wrong with my life. Here they are:

1. Saw the Crisis Support at the Manchester Royal Infirmary, and they are brilliant because they are going to speak to my doctor and get me anti-depressants.
2. Spoke to Sam at the _________ and he’s trying to get me a job and hopefully somewhere to stay
3. Spoke to Dandara Lettings (my lettings agent) and, well here’s the bad news: Once my flatmate moves out, I will have to move out. This is because of the way my contract’s been arranged. It’s a total setback, and has destroyed whatever optimism I had since speaking to Crisis Support this morning. I have 1 month to find a new flat and new flatmates.
4. I have also reached a new low in my life: I have gone back to Tesco to ask for a job. I worked for Tesco in my first year at uni and hated it so much that I’ve vowed never to go back, but things are so desperate that I have spoken to them and I hate myself so much now.
5. I found vacancies at a bank (hah!) but I have to get out of this cloud of depression before I can bring myself to do anything useful. Churchill called it his ‘black dog’. I call it my Black Cloud. It’s this cloud that surrounds me, blocks out all light, and sucks out the joy in me.

I hope I can get through today. It has been a long day, much longer than yesterday.