Na, I'm ok actually, because despite how terrible that sounds, I have about 10 pounds in cash, so that's like, almost 20 pounds. Eh, I don't think I'm going to touch my account money though. Got to play is safe! I was tempted to call my mother , but maybe not.
The new job is going alright. I work long days. It's funny, I really feel like an immigrant and then I realize, I kinda am. The front page of the newspaper this morning said, X amount (something million) of immigrants had jobs in the UK. Yikes, and there I was, on the tube, with every cover of every newspaper plastered towards my face as I sat on a crowded train of Londoners heading to work... including me. I felt awkward. I realized, geeze, the media is pretty powerful aye?! I sat there thinking for a bit, dude I'm the immigrant messing up the economy. That's not the case, (it was really the dude next to me who's been messing it all up), but yeah, for a second, it hit me. It must be scary to be in New York City or Chicago or somewhere right now where people are losing their jobs and blaming it on the "immigrants."
I finally moved out of my old flat. The pub, it was a nice one, but not the place for me really. I loved the people that lived there and worked there, but the flat itself was not for me or anyone who is really trying to focus on getting down to the nitty gritty. I need to be honest, mad people do drugs here. I'm not talking about weed or cigaretts or alchole or tabacco, I mean serious drugs. I walked into the living room my last day at the pub and two of my flatmates were sniffing lines of coke. The week before it was extascy. I found one of them still sitting in the same position I left him the night before. He hadn't slept. He was just sitting on the couch, dead still, smoking a fag.
So I was able to move out last night. I moved in to a 4 bedroom flat out in Mitcham. It's a nice flat, but it's a bit far from central London. Ah, it's super late, I need to go to bed.
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