The truth

I was given a $60 parking fee today.

The weight of the world collapsed on my shoulders when I saw it. Since the fracture, I have not been walking nor have I been functioning properly. Each time I get stressed or upset, I just tell myself that everything is going to be alright and brush it off with optimism.

I rushed to the shoe store after work to specifically look for a thick sole shoe for my foot. That is the most painful part of it all. I have forked out at least $1,000 on doctor appointments, medication, taxi fares, parking fees and I just found out today that the shoe I needed cost $339. An MBT. Even a Birkenstock was not good enough for my fucked up foot.

See, right there. This is me. I am no angel. I do not and cannot conjure up rainbows to shine across the sky. I cannot withhold or erase the anger or pack it away in a box anymore.

I cried. And I cried like an angry broken old sook. Here I was finally deciding not to go to a cafe and to not treat myself so I could save that little bit of money (after contemplating about it all day) to find the parking fee.

I have serious issues. I mean, I am okay financially. But I really am a scrooge. I need to get things back in perspective. Mind you, I did pay for parking. It was paid up until 4.38. The "offence time" was at 4.51. I got back to the car at 4.53.

I guess I needed it. A wake up call. I drove to Kings Park and realised how much I have been so concerned with everything that I forgot to give myself a break (no pun intended). I needed time to myself. To give myself something that money could not.

A breather.

Here's to... good shoes.