I hate being poor.
I hate spending so much of my time thinking about money, which is just about my least favorite thing in the world.
I hate coming to the realization that I pretty much just can’t afford to be alive.
I hate that I’m questioning my decision to have a baby just because of my financial situation.
I hate not being able to have the things I want, no matter how small.
I hate that what seems like a grotesquely large amount of money to me seems like pocket change to other people in the world.
I hate that all I want right now is a new car. Not NEW, but one that’s slightly used and in better condition and safer for my son than the one I’ve got. I found the perfect car … $13,000. To me that number is so astronomically large that there’s no point in even thinking about it. And yet I do, about every 10 minutes, honestly.
I hate that I can’t see a way out of this.
I hate how helpless I feel.
I hate this.