Hostile

As I fight back the tears in Starbucks and dig my nails as deeply into my skin as I can, feeling the chill of pain ripple through my body, I try to focus long enough to send an email to the apartment listing on craigslist.  Long enough to write this blog.  I try to calm myself.  I don't want to go home today.  Or ever again.  I need an ally. You should want to go home.  I can't focus.  I walk calmly back to the bathroom in Starbucks, sit on the floor, and cry.  It only takes a minute.