Money money money

Worthless …… stupid….. incompetent girl.

More packages show up at the door

Spending money here and there

But I make all my bills and rent.

Yet I’m dumb and have a problem

Because I bought another book

Some

Clothes for dance class and shoes too

And I wanted some craft supplies.

Online shopping

Leaves a bigger trail

Than the one from going to the store

Worthless

And dumb

Meant to me preached at by men who

Got life handed to them on a silver platter

And yet

I buy my clothes second hand

I budge my bills and food.

When I purchase online I know the total before I confirm

No standing in line to be publicly shamed

If I put back a few items.

Sure I’ve gotten stress in the past

About the debt

From being a student

From being a young adult that bought things and once had too much credit card debt

To getting myself my own car.

I did this by myself. In my name and with the money I got

I woke 40 hours a week

Even though it feels like it’s killing me.

But I’m worthless and stupid

I must have a problem

Why because I admitted once

That I spent to much money

After an abuse of ex

Who ruined my finances and I said fuck it

I need books and crafts to keep my mind

At ease

Not to mention all the times I had to fix the car

It’s easy to promise yourself to not spend

To wait until you’ve saved enough

To finance it and pay it back.

To ‘live within your means’ what ever that stupid phase means

Live within your means but lord forbid you have some fun and pay it back later

Lord forbid you get a new book. After saving and paying off debt for months

Heavens above, is that protein bars and fancy peanut butter?

Another online food order?

Christ kid! Did you get yourself a new dress.

Shame on you.

You have debt and a job.

Why aren’t you in shabby hand me downs

And borrowing from the library

And I’m not even mad

That you think I spend to much

Of my own money.

I’m heartbroken that I can’t feel safe in my house

Because if too many package come to the door

I’m a problem not a person

I’m a women whose spending money

Loose and wild.

Yet I’m in bed every night by 11….

And stay in on weekends.

And in the end it’s not about the money

The packages

The judgement

It’s about the

Control

The existence of being allowed to feel safe

Of having my own freedom

If being me

Is a crime

And if money is a bit of sacrifice.

How much more can I sacrifice before I

Become a shell

A cog in the machine.