Money, its pleasure and its pain.

I hate the end of every month. I have been hating it since I college days. Every single month. For 12 years now. 144 months of pain. I cant wait for this hate to end.

Its the time my finances touch rock bottom. I am so bloody broke that my self esteem goes and sits beside the pauper that sits in the most dirtiest corner of the most busiest street. And it clearly has nothing to do with the amount of money I have in my hands, because I stayed in the same deplorable state with Rs. 2000 monthly, to 20,000 to a lot lot more!

The theories about living the present and having no regrets tomorrow fueled my myopic and shallow view into the larger picture of planning life and I know today, at this moment, that it is not a safe path I am treading today.

I fight with my dad every time he counsels me about how I should manage my money. I tell him that I am living my life. I forget that he had a chance to do that himself, the "living the present" *lavishly* part. But he did not. For us, for our home. And I know that it was exactly why I am here, in the mouth of luxury, having anything that I want for myself, and ever since I could ask. And yet unhappy, unsettled in my mind, feeling ashamed. Those big sacrifices blow hard and make a lot of noise in my chest tonight. It rakes up my soul and literary brings me onto my knees wondering if I pushed fate and luck just too far.

I need to put things into order and take control over my bills, lest I know I am heading for trouble.

I want to wake up tomorrow in the same state of mind, and I want it to last for a long long time. I hope. I want. Badly.