The you that seems to think that my life, yes "my" life, is privileged...because, of course "I am lucky."
Lucky?!
Am I lucky because I am up late at night instead of planting my big fat butt on the couch while drinking a glass of Pinot Grigio? Which is honestly what I would like to do, instead of staring at a computer screen...but I digress.
Or, am I lucky because I spend less and less time in the sunlight, while I, instead, type-away strategies, build plans, and (try to) make something amazing happen with my life?
Yes, my life...not yours.
Yes, I hate you for assuming and caring a little too much about the ups in my life, instead of being there when I have lows.
Because if you were there, when I have a low or two, I might actually like you.
For now, I simply hate your childish rants, high school antics, and ignorant assumptions.
Let it be clear that everything I have, and everything I will have, was earned by the sweat on my brow and a lot of creative money management.
Want some of it? Get to work!
A moment in venting,
