I often ask myself "Can't we all just get along," I ususally tell myself to F-off.

I went to visit her while she was at work. She asked how the real estate business was going. "Bad. Real bad," I said surprising myself with my own candor. She knows the owner of the real estate company and just as I protect her privacy from the owner, I usually do the same for the owner. "Tim says you're poor," isn't something I want coming up in a conversation.

"Maybe she should stop shopping."

"She hasn't really been shopping too much," I said as I could picture both brand new bedroom sets for her daughters. "It's bad for everyone. Not just her."

She then mentioned that the owner's adopted daughters are in special schools. Having both your parents on heroin while your tiny fetus brain is trying to develop can't be all that good for you. The smarts are there, I think, but the attention and desire are, sometimes, not. I said "You can't fault her for that."

When I think to myself about how I'm getting screwed, how I'm actually buying supplies and equipment while half a year's worth of my paychecks sit unsigned in my desk, I'll ask myself who shouldn't she have paid so that I could be. I think about the commissions she has advanced to the agents who haven't been selling; I think: You need agents to run a real estate business. The agents need to survive. I think: What about me? I've been instrumental in the deals that are keeping us still in the game, all those late nights creating proposals and marketing pieces. I think: I'm doing my job and beyond. I'm slowly dying and nobody cares.

I think: Yeah, but you can survive without it. Spend less and you have the money that you need. I think: Yeah, but I shouldn't have to bust my ass to be poor. I argue to myself that I would have more money if I didn't have a second job, I could go back to filing a 1040EZ for my taxes, I could stop paying self employment tax, I would have time to relax.

I think: What about her? I think: She's driven this company into the ground before, let her build it back up without me this time. I ask: Will there be a next time? I tell myself that that is not my problem.

I think: So stop being a hero. She doesn't even know the half of what you are doing.

I think: When have you ever sought glory, money or fame? I think: She's a friend in need.

I think: I have needs too.

I hear back: Those are wants.




I think: You once complained that your gold chain was too heavy around your neck.