Megan and I are eligible for foodstamps. We don’t have enough money to get to Aspen. We don’t have enough money to get home. We don’t have enough money to eat. We don’t even have enough money to sleep.

But seriously, I can’t buy food or pay next month’s rent. I canceled my gynecologist appointment to avoid spending money. I can’t afford my medication. I can’t afford to see my therapist. I am destitute. I have holes in my shoes and the stars are shining through my moth-eaten coat. I’m making the best of this last barrel of wine. Despite everything, I feel like this is the only legitimate, reasonable struggle I have ever and will ever endure, and I am glad to do so. It isn’t something I made up in my head.

I need a jawb. Two matta fact.