Yes, I want the money, but FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!

So, I come home from work today (actually fun! I talked with HotGuy and Curly...am developing a serious crush on HotGuy, which is Not Good, as he is, despite being in chour, band, and drama (and good! He's the lead in the All-State musical!), a Bad Boy who gets wasted and drunk once or twice a month, etc.), and Dad says, "Well, we're going to pay for the hotel room for the con."

DAMMIT! YOU BASTARD!

The thing is, I was going to pay for all of this. Me. Me alone. Just me. Yes, I had to borrow (THE WORD IS BORROW!!) from my parents, but I'm going to pay it all back. I wanted to do this for me, to prove I could, to prove I was responsible enough to do this, to prove that I was actually going to be a productive member of society. It's not like I wouldn't mind having an extra 334 dollars in my bank account, or even 84 (the cost of the hotel room), but I want to pay for it. I really, really need this, for my peace of mind. This is my thing.

I just...I don't know how I feel. I feel like I'm being spoiled, a little, but I also know that for being the only child of an upper-middle-class suburban family, I've been raised extrodinarily well. A little spoiling was inevitable, I think, but still. They've done a good job of making sure I'm responsible. And now? I feel...like I leeching off them, even though I protested mightily when Dad said that he was going to pay for the hotel room.

Dammit. This just...sucks.

quote of the post: "if i were a rich man" --tevye, fiddler on the roof

nebulia out.

*yawn*

I'm really tired. I'm going to post this and then I'll go to bed.

Posted the second ficlet for 101_kisses. Theme 26, Windy Nights.

Link:

http://community.livejournal.com/101_kisses/138446.html

Check it out, dude. I'm going to bed.

quote of the post: "that sea monkey has my money." --dory, finding nemo

nebulia out.