you're in the habit of denying yourself things.
if someone asked you directly, you would say that you love a little treat. you like iced coffee and getting the cookie. you drink juice out of a fancy cup sometimes, and often do use your candles until they gutter out helplessly.
but you hesitate about buying the 20 dollar hand mixer because, like. you could just use your arms. you weren't raised rich. you don't get to just spend the 20 dollars (remember when that could cover lunch?), at least - you don't spend that without agonizing over it first, trying to figure out the cost-benefits like you are defending yourself in front of a jury. yes, this rice cooker could seriously help you. but you do know how to make stovetop rice and it really isn't that hard. how many pies or brownies would you actually make, in order to make that hand mixer worthwhile?
what's wild is that if the money was for a friend, it would already be spent. you'd fork over 40 without blinking an eye, just to make them happy. the difference is that it's for you, so you need to justify it.
and it sneaks in. you ration yourself without meaning to - you don't finish the pint of ice cream, even though you want to. the next time you go to the store, you say ah, i really shouldn't, and then you walk away. you save little bits of your precious things - just in case. sometimes you even go so far as putting that one thing in your shopping cart. and then just leaving it there, because maybe-one-day, but not right now, there's other stuff going on.
you do self-care, of course. but you don't do it more than like, 3 days in a row. after that it just feels a little bit over-the-edge. like. you can't live in decadence, the economy is so bad right now, kid.
so you don't buy the rice cooker. you can-and-will spend the time over the stove. you can withstand the little sorrows. denial and discipline are practically synonyms. and you're not spoiled.
it's just - it's not always a rice cooker. sometimes it is a person or a job or a hug. sometimes it is asking for help. sometimes it is the summer and your college degree. sometimes it is looking down at scabbed knees and feeling a strange kind of falling, like you can't even recognize the girl you used to be. sometimes it is your handprint looking unsteady.
sometimes it is tuesday, and you didn't get fired, and you want to celebrate. but what is it you like, even? you search around your little heart and come up empty. you're so used to denying that all your desires draw a blank.
oh fuck. see, this is the perfect opportunity. if you had a mixer, you'd make a cake.
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The fact that the Boston transit system has been a garbage fire for so long that our mascot is a sad little man who is literally stranded on the train until the end of time due to a fare increase. Charlie's desiccated corpse has been riding this train since the 1940s and everyone just sort of rolls with it it this point
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Taco Crimes
Donnie would absolutely blow a fuse if someone ruined their books with how sacred he was to that mint condition comic, and I’m sure Mikey thinks cooking is an art. Cross either of them and it’s hell to pay!
I read a lot of book series that had been handed down to me by my siblings, but you could really tell whose they were before based on their condition. One sibling left foodstains and dog ears, another left spine breaks and ripped paperbacks, and the final would threaten my life if I so much as dented a page. Such is life with shared things
I guess you could say those books were well loved, for better or for worse lol
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Sometimes you just have to look at someone who’s being unnecessarily rude or unkind or hostile towards you & wrinkle your nose & go “it’s not that deep. you’re so weird for thinking it’s that deep” & then go back to your happy fulfilling life that will forever be independent of how people perceive u
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