19 February 2011
Anyone who knows anything about bipolar knows that one of the wonderful hallmarks is spending. Most call it manic spending, but I do both, manic and depressed. The spending is what has me depressed at the moment.
I am essentially a failure at life when it comes to my own money. My father will tell you that himself. Instead of saving every cent I got for financial aid I went on a spending spree.
$300 for a futon when I could have made my shitty couch last another semester or two. $400 for a Wii and games to help lose weight (I can at least see how many calories I've burned and it keeps me occupied). $420 for body modifications and tat designs. $300 or so for credit card payments, which means late fees. An ungodly amount of money for gas, and cigs. Overextending on helping with groceries = $300. $90 on medicine. And probably $200 on stupid shit trying to make myself feel better for a minute or two.
So now, I'm sitting here crying, replaying the "talks" in my head from Mom and Dad. "You need to watch your spending. You just don't care about anyone but yourself. You fuck up and we have to pay the price. You're a failure. Why can't you be like your brothers?" And now I have to ask Dad for money for the England trip which is paid for so I can at least eat and call someone special a few times.
Kill me now.