Craigslist Joe really killed me, you guys. I was doing all right with it until he went to help out Fran McGee, who emailed him asking if he could help her clean her apartment in NYC in exchange for some food and stuff. Turns out, she is battling terminal cancer and had a few minor movie roles in her prime (including Home Alone) and I just got so, so, so sad.

She is living in a tiny box of an apartment, filled with clutter and cats. She can't throw anything away because she's worried she'll need it, because nobody is there to take care of her. Girl is dying of cancer, and realized that she is dying of cancer alone, and can't let go of anything. And she's crazy. Like, that sucks to say, but she is. She admits it on camera. She juices everyday in an effort to holistically heal herself, which I respect a lot, but man. Nobody takes care of her, she never goes outside, has former headshots of herself on her walls, tons of sequined clothes and can't even sit down.

“Sometimes I have a thing about letting things go. It’s like, I’m not gonna be taken care of by the universe. It’s some kind of mentality, but it’s part of what I’ve got to deal with.”

And then she said, “It’s sane to know you’re insane.”

Sometimes I get so scared because I'm convinced that's how I'll die. Alone in my tiny room, filled with the things I have collected during better days and talking to people on the Internet while drinking my juice. Because I'm basically there already.