Greedy Butterfly
I never thought money was important to me. It was always something that passed through my hands like water, and I splashed and played around in it at whim. I’ve never had much of it. But I’ve never been particularly possessive. But these days I find myself coveting it. I need more money. And the more I spend, the more I get resentful. I don’t think I do very well at sharing.Dinner was 100 dollars last night – and that was the deal on a set menu. God forbid how much it would have been if we’d ordered a la carte.
I bought him a suit for Christmas. Another 600 on the credit card bill. We’re never going to pay any of this money off. And meanwhile, my mother is ever omnipresent in my mind. A lurking, lingering shadow that never ceases to exist. Constantly haunting my existence and making my life a misery. Of course, that is all because I can’t let it go. I can’t accept the realities and consequences of my decisions.
I didn’t bet on the races yesterday and listening to my work colleagues talk about how they won 300 dollars on the favourite makes me grumpy. It makes me wish I had taken a punt, and gone ahead and made a bet. I need the money. And I hate the fact that I need money so badly. I’m counting and pinching every penny. I get resentful when he spends. I’m unhappy.
I just want to crawl back into bed and roll over and sleep.
I’m supposed to get my new modem today (assuming they remember to bring it in) and I’ll have to spend money again. My bank account despite my big tax dividend is slowly starting to deplete. I shouldn’t have bought that mobile phone. Even though I know it was a bargain.
I hate that I’m coveting money so badly.
I hate, I hate, I hate.
posted by Enigmatic Butterfly @ 11:12 am
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