I guess I could say it's a shame.

"But I realize these people are relying on something to be whole. Don't we all? Why can't I rid myself of this scorn? I'm not better. I am not better than anyone."
~exerpt from my pen-and-paper journal

Hope snatched from the jaws of uncertainty and unhappiness and homelessness. We've been handed a perfect opportunity to once again have this personal space in a bustling metropolis. And now it leaves us once more, making me feel as though I am being toyed with.

The forecast says thunderstorms and rain friday-saturday, with a high of 68 degrees. It's 43 now.

I feel empty, packing my life here to leave again. Not that I am unhappy to be in Philadelphia, merely that I do not feel any attachment to the things I'm bringing.

Or something. I don't know.

No one reads this anyway.