bills. BILLS BILLS BILLS. couple that with trying to scrape together a savings account and you have me.
i’m so overwhelmed i wanna cry. and that’s just out of the outer layer of sheer panic. i hate the logistics of growing up.
-poor girl in the hood
i’m a meatball in this concrete pasta dish
For the longest time, about five years, i’ve considered “this” to be a transitional state. A place to rest, no rest is to permanent a word. A place to lean against while on my way back to Richmond. A place to be rid of and a state to cast aside AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.
Tonight, it hit me.
This is no transitional position. “This,” is my life. I May go back to Richmond. But i’m not missing it like i used to. I’m moving on. I’m building a home here. I hate it and it’s scary. And i still loathe this area. Northern Virginia is a concrete spaghetti bowl full of bitterness and meanies.
But it’s home. I have a good job. I have a place to live, and could potentially move on my own soonish. My neice is here. My family is here.
i am here. and i guess Richmond can wait.