Over being broke

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It’s one thing to have debt. It’s another to have no disposable money after everything’s been paid for the month. Scratch that. I only paid half of my rent this month.

Pay day is next Monday. I very much doubt that my petrol is going to last until then – the fact that I’ve been to Pretoria three out of the last four weekends is not helping. I need these weekends, though. Somehow being idle on a Saturday here is less depressing than doing it in Jo’burg where (maybe because of its inherent pace) I feel like I should be out exploring and being social. And those things cost money, which is why I avoid doing it.

I wish I could buy my mom flowers for today – 34 years ago she lost a baby girl; 15 years ago her father died. She is going through a tough time, emotionally and financially, and the only thing I feel I can do is visit her as often as I can. Or can’t, as the case may be. Tomorrow is her birthday. I literally spent my last money yesterday to buy her a journal. She has a need to get her thoughts and feelings out too, so “an offline blog” seems like a good solution. She also said she wanted to start a new journal tomorrow. On the cover of the one I bought her, “Believe in yourself” is etched on the cover.

I feel a little panicky about Christmas. It will only be the two of us, most likely. My brother and his girlfriend (fiancé?) are going to her parents – her mother refuses to change their plans – and my nephew generally spends the morning with his mother. I tried to convince her to agree that we won’t exchange presents this year, but she wouldn’t have anyt of it. Of course, my birthday being two weeks before Christmas is not making me any happier this time.

I most probably won’t be coming to Pretoria next weekend, as much as I’d like to. I’ll be in my room in Johannesburg, watching movies on my laptop, having a pity party. This too shall pass… eventually… I guess…

About Syllable

A frugal shopaholic called Syllable: Intelligent, skeptic, curious, naïve, passionate, moody, honest, creative, obsessive & obsessed. A dreamer, a worrier, a writer, a reader, a listener, an observer. My little site of fiction: http://www.thesinglesyllable.co.za/

One response »

  1. fark chicken, this post could ahve been written about my life right now. we’re battling. like oh fuck battling.

    i propose that i amble to your place (or waddle as the case now may be) with my lappy and we exchange self pitying snivels and movies sometime next weekend.
    xx

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