Embalming of A Freelancer

I am only now discovering that much of my work in my master file from the Toshiba is gone, despite what I paid the technician, twice now. My essay on The Driver was just gelling into a sustainable thesis in September 2017. I simply cannot take much more of this. I really can't. Because I had to move into an 811 public housing building and then let the fucking corporation con me into accepting Riverside, because I have no academic safeguards to secure my projects, and now my physiology cannot sustain the stresses. I cannot take it, I can't. This is all the time, every fucking PC failure, every conflict with the building owner's louse brained nigger squadron. It is not one calamity, it is cyclic, and this machine is 11 years old. I just can't continue like this, my chest, bowel burning. I can't --goodbye.