My bad week trumps your bad week.

This week could only get worse if I were diagnosed with AIDS.

Returning from the bank after picking up my last paycheck from the Brewery, I took the turn into my street too sharply and plowed into a ditch.

I have contusions and abrasions from the seatbelt digging into my chest. I had to bend my ankh pendant back into shape from where it bent. There are scrapes and cuts in the shape of the Tiffany chain my parents gave me last year. And my right ankle...I can't walk on it. At all. Every time I try I nearly faint from the pain. I can still move it and all so I don't think it's broken. Been soaking it in ice water on and off for the past two hours. My brother and mother had to help me into the house and eventually to get up the stairs to the hallway I had to drag myself on my ass. Which, incidentally is how I got from the bathroom to my room just now. Mom found a cane downstairs but that doesn't do me any good.

I'm going to the doctor tomorrow to have my ankle looked at. My father is paying for the visit, which is nice considering that when I ended up in his pharmacy (long story) he screamed at me until a customer came to the counter. Apparently everything I do turns to shit and could I at least please try not to be such a fuck-up? His technician looked disgusted, but said nothing.

I didn't break down, at least not totally, until I got back home and was trying to get inside. Landed on the bad foot accidentally and screamed. Then I lost it and started crying so hard I couldn't breathe. But I had to make myself stop because I had to get inside. I don't know how I'm going to get outside and to Dad's car tomorrow. Maybe it'll feel better then, I don't know.

My car...it's totaled.

I have no job. No car. No way to get to another job.

Yeah. I'm royally fucked.