Letter #8: Dear Will

Dear Will,

I keep checking Hangouts to see if you’ve been around recently. It’s been three days. Maybe you blocked me, so I’ll have no way of ever actually knowing if you read what I posted there. 

You once wrote me an e-mail in a moment of anger and a tinge of sadness about the baggage you carry with you. Well, maybe now it’s time I show you a bit more of my own.

I can skip over the years between high school and college, because you were mostly present during that time. Obviously we went our separate ways when we were twenty-one, basically because I’m a fucking idiot and let you go and I didn’t look back.

After my second last year of college (that was year we “happened”), I moved back in with my parents. I continued a relationship with Z. I married Z. You know all this, I know. But it all leads to the fact I never really got the chance to live entirely out on my own. I don’t know what it’s like to put off getting an oil change because you need the money to cover your rent. I never had to make those decisions, and GOD, how I wish I’d had. I’d be a much stronger, capable person if I’d had. But, no. I always had either my parents or Z to bail me out.

I got paid today, and I thought, “Great! I’m excited to pay some bills, because if my commission check is on this one, then that means I have $2K left on my credit card, and I should be able to have that paid off by the end of the year.” 


Oh, no. We’re talking it’s back up to nearly $5K because of I don’t even know what the fuck what. So I canceled my Audible membership, arguing with the voice in the back of my mind telling me, “Why would you do that? It’s *only* $25 a month.” 


I owe $4,068.73 on my credit card.

I owe $2,353.91 on my personal loan.

And I know this is not even a dent in what some people might owe, and all I have for bills every month is my cell phone, car loan, and Invisalign payment. Really actually low payments, if you think about it.

Those numbers weigh on me heavily. I wanted to be financially free more than this before going out on my own. It feels unmanageable. Unfixable.

Just. Like. Me.

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