“Tax season” is now in my vernacular…

Not that it matters or anything, seeing as how my status as a student prevents me from claiming my scholarship credits, much to my chagrin. Or maybe I’m doing it wrong; the claim last year was that, because I could still be claimed as someone’s dependent, I couldn’t get that extra $1000 (which could’ve helped me out in school, by the way) so I was stuck with whatever I got from the state from working. It wasn’t much, for those who were wondering.

But yeah, I’ve got to get on that, filing taxes and other time-sensitive things. I just feels like time’s running away from me, but maybe that’s because, again, I graduate in a few months. Still kind of shocked, though I seem to be handling it well enough. My biggest worry after graduation though is just what on Earth am I supposed to do? Where am I going? How do I get there? Will I have a stable job and living space before November, when the creditors start knocking on my door, wanting a return on four years’ worth of loans? The answers that I have collected thus far are as follows: get a job ASAP; anywhere but here, as the job market’s pretty shit; no clue, seeing as I can’t drive anywhere; and let’s hope so, lest you have to move in with the rest of your clan ’cause that shit ain’t happening.

I love my folks. Really, I do. But, boy, they have issues. It seems as though my older sister is intent on making herself out to be the worst financial role model ever, my younger sister is already in trouble (again), and my mother is resolute on reestablishing her iron-fisted matriarchy, ’cause that didn’t totally collapse when I went off to college. Already, they’re sniffing around me, like sharks chasing chum, and it’s that reflexive instinct to pull everyone back to one place and live under one roof again like we used to at work here. But here’s the thing: I’ve already tasted independence. I know that, if I must, I can and will take care of myself, spoil myself even. So, while I do miss my mother at times, I don’t want to go back. My sister’s abode is little more than a vacuum where the concept of autonomy ceases to exist. Not to mention that, already, I’m flying under the radar; to go back would relegate me to Narnia, as far as closets go, for at least one more decade. Am I ever going to tell my mother? Probably, but not now. Though, really, what is there to disown? I’m already by myself, for the most part.

I dunno. I’ll make it work. For now, there’s two exams to prepare for, though I’ve only the vaguest sense of what I’m doing. Cheers!


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