you’re going to love again, find a job again, create art again, do what you love again, feel powerful again. you’re going to be back on track. i don’t know when, but you are going to feel like yourself again, eventually. this isn’t the end. hang in there.
Not to be a drooling socialist cuck, but if a full day's labour can't purchase three square meals, 24 hour's worth of rent and utilities, a fraction of a month's clothing budget, and a reasonable portion to be saved for when you can no longer comfortably work, what the fuck are we doing shit for