Thursdays are my favorite day for blogging, because I can post a link to my column and call it good. Frankly, I’m too stressed out to be clever, and since I can’t afford a therapist I’m going to vent here. If you don’t like it there’s this cute little button at the top of the page with an X on it just for you. Come back tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll have some stupid, embarrassing moment to share. If I leave home, something humiliating is bound to happen.
I’m about to have a pity part here. Seriously, are you sure you don’t want to log off? Fine. I warned you.
Yesterday, I found out how much it will cost to finish my degree and needless to say I’m considering prostitution. Look for me on a street corner near you!
On top of that, after five years of living in my tiny princess pad, my rent is being raised. I told myself when I moved in that I wasn’t moving out until I purchased my own home. How very naive of me. My salary isn’t high enough to afford an education and a house. I’m not willing to give up on my education quite yet, so it looks like I’m stuck in my tiny apartment without a proper kitchen, AC or laundry.
I know, I know… I’m VERY fortunate to have a job, an apartment, and a chance at a higher education. And while I know how incredibly lucky I am to have these things it doesn’t stop me from noticing those around me who can afford a much nicer lifestyle, and still manage to whine about life. The worst part is biting my tongue when I really want to tell them all to fuck off. I don’t because I love them. And that, folks, is what love is: not telling people to fuck off.
For now, I’ll continue to go to work every day, and then I’ll go to school. Afterward, I’ll come home and cry because I’m terrified of how I’m going to pay for it all. Promise me when you see me on the street corner you won’t heckle me.
And if you do, I won’t write columns about threesomes anymore. How’s that for punishment?