Many of you have been faithful followers of my journal, for years. You have read about all of the drama that has gone on where I live, in relation to my own circumstances, here at the building. You are fully aware, by reading me, how I have tried, time and time again to develop friendships which would hopefully lead to longevity, only to be burned for no apparent reason. I am certai? inhumane treatment. I thought about it, somewhat when I returned home, today after being out with my daughter and her dad. Life is very short. I have lived here nineteen years. At one point, I had hoped that one day I would have that “anniversary”, if you will in which I could say, “Hey. I have been here twenty years”! But at what cost. Am I living the dream? Is anyone? I think not. How long must a person live in a place, in which all they get is rejection? I once read that one of the ways in which elderly people can live longer is to develop, meaningful, fruitful friendships with a degree of sustainance and longevity. I do not have that. That having been said, I honestly feel that my situation has contributed to the LACK of overall good mental health. The cruelty that I have endured from other tenants has increased my depression, anxiety, paranoia and PTSD. Hell, just the other night, someone tried to either force their way into my apartment, or just decided to try to give me a good “scare”. Is it time? Is it time to move forward, move out and be somewhere inwhich I might get some peace, and perhaps even some degree of well-being? You will still see me around, my friends. After I get established, in my new residence, I will have my cable, phone and internet transferred over. I will definitely be continuing my Prose Box journal. My apologies for having stated that I was leaving PB to go over to OD. I intend to keep two journals, one on each site. But back to the idea of moving… like several of you said, it might just be a viable option. I have accumulated a lot of furniture and other things while residing in my one bedroom apartment. I think that could all be worked out, with some help. What difference does it make, if I am living here, or up the river over in Ohio? ASide from my care team, I am basically by myself. I survive in the day-to-day, but I often get this nagging feeling as if things are simply not the way that they are supposed to be, and with the help of my family, I could change all that, by moving the hell out of here. (For now), enough said.