I might take up a telemarketing job. 250 bucks a month, five days a week.

It still looks dark, my outlook.

Pressure. And time.

Bel's friends came over today, and I'm high for the first time in two years. I've never been much of a pot smoker, but today it felt great. It feels like I might be wanting to switch pot for booze as my escaping activity.

Bel had been away for four days, working, and I was mildly drunk most of the time. And I was saddened by the weight I felt dropping on my chest when I heard his key rattling in the keyhole.

It felt very much like the one I felt when my dad came home. That feeling of there go my good times. No more eating while watching TV, no more sleeping till late, no more ice cream.

Sigh.

He keeps asking, "Are you mad at me?" and I keep saying no. I'm not mad at him. I just, don't want him to be around. I want to think.

He says, I love you. I say, Me too. And it feels like a lie.

And I keep chasing my own tail here. No job, not even the hint for one. Many friends from abroad are supposedly keeping their eyes open for me, but so far nothing has happened.

I hate being in this situation. I feel like a betrayer.