Today, I couldn’t think about anything except money.
More so, my lack of it. My financial situation looks way better than most of my friends’, who are in so much debt that they’ll probably die before they pay it off, yet my finances still stress me out like a mother fucker.
This isn’t anything new. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always loved the shit. Before I had anything to spend it on, I used to save up all my allowance and birthday checks for nothing in particular. I would carry around every single dollar I had just because I felt more comfortable with it right by my side.
Just me and my money.
My ride or die.
My day one.
Not much has changed. Nowadays I have more skrilla than I’ve ever had, but my worries about it still keep me up at night.
“Will I make enough coinage this month?” (Microsoft Word suggested “coinage” as a good synonym for money. Word, Word.)
“Should I have bought that leather jacket?” (Correct answer: yes, you should see how good I look in it.)
“What if my car breaks and I need to buy a new one?”
“What are the chances that I get caught if I start selling drugs?” (@Police jk.)
The fact that I don’t have a career lined up doesn’t bother me one bit. I have a Bachelor’s in Psychology, so I’m l i t e r a l l y having to fend off job recruiters because I am *so* qualified and in demand. (Side note: if anyone knows of a fun job in San Francisco that pays six figures and isn’t actually work, but more just a place where I hang out with my friends and eat, lmk.)
I try to tell myself that I’m okay with being poor for a while. That I can do without the unnecessary purchases. I don’t need Brie every time I go to the grocery store. My life would probably be fine without new jeans. How much enjoyment am I really going to get out of this ice cream? (A lot, ily ice cream no one understands me like you do ily.) Do I need this donut tattoo? Yeah, probably.
On one hand, I don’t want to take a job that I probably wouldn’t enjoy just for the money. On the other hand, ya boy’s gotta eat.
But as long as I have enough money to eat, I’m chillin.
All too often, I worry about the future and what’s to come. But here’s the realization that I’ve come to after all of this bullshit:
IT DOES NOT MATTER. NOTHING MATTERS. EVERYTHING WILL BE OK.
I have my health.
I have friends.
I have family.
I have a job that I look forward to going to in the morning.
Anything else is extra, so I guess I’ll be thankful for all the other dope shit in my life.