In which our hero, who was born to write songs, tries to figure out his life with help from the interviewer.
Monday, April 11, 2016
I'm trying not to think this, but I'm fucked
Hi.
Hey, farmboy, what's up? This is a surprise. It's fine, of course. I'm just surprised because we just talked.
Everything has changed. I was misinformed about a couple of things. My last day at this facility is Saturday.
Saturday? I thought you had longer than that.
I did too. But I don't. It's Saturday.
And you can't stay any longer?
No. I was also misinformed about my insurance. I was under the impression that after my allotted days I would have to pay a copay of $160. Turns out I have to pay the full amount, which is at least 600 fuckin' dollars a day. Ain't no way I can afford that, man.
What are you going to do, farmboy?
Besides panic? I don't know, man. I don't fuckin' know. I mean, it'll be something. But at this moment in time, I don't have a clue. I'm trying not to think this, but I'm fucked.
Oh my God, farmboy, I...
I don't know what I can say, man. This whole thing is a fuckin' nightmare. It just keeps getting worse. Right now, I'm in shock. I'm fuckin' stunned. I don't know what to say.
I want to disappear. That's all I want.
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