Sitting in front of my credit-purchased coffee table,
with my butt firmly planted on my credit purchased furniture,
eating discount macaroni and cheese,
drinking un-filtered tap water,
staring at the spot on my wall where my plasma screen would be (if I could afford one),
missing that movie because the ticket prices are creeping towards $20,
sulking at home when invited to a wedding ceremony across the country because travel is too expensive,
watching my bank account like a hawk to ensure my checks don’t bounce,
skipping coffee with friends because a cup of filtered beans costs $5,
falling asleep on the couch after a 9-5 because I can’t bear to keep my eyes propped open,
putting off dating and making new friends for another day when I might have the energy,
and worrying when I will be able to pay that pile of bills staring menacingly from the table.
Then also realizing there is no one else, besides myself, to pay them.
Is this what being an American Grown Up means?
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