So, after that epic Messenger reunion with the old gang, things got... interesting. Chuckie, my main man, my "Max," we were chugging along, chatting pretty much every day. Normal stuff, you know? Life, the universe, why pineapple on pizza is a crime against humanity – the usual deep conversations.
But CeCe? Oh, CeCe. We had that first chat, and I tried to be all "humble broke girl," because, let's be real, I can't afford to be my old "maldita" self right now. You know, the one who probably gave them PTSD from my pre-broke, "I own everything" days. I could feel the conversation veering towards a familiar territory, and honestly, I just... stopped. It didn't feel right. Like, why talk about my current lack of everything when I used to, you know, have everything? It just felt… off.
And then there's Chuckie. Our daily chats slowly, subtly, like a fading Wi-Fi signal, started to dwindle. From everyday to every other day, then a few times a week, and now... crickets. It's been a whole week. A WEEK! No chat.
Is this the part where they realize I'm not the fabulous, sassy, slightly-rich-girl version of me anymore? Is this the "Oh, she's actually still broke, let's just keep her at arm's length" phase? It's like, they're all busy with their work-from-home lives, living the dream, and I'm just here, perpetually available. Is that it? Am I too available? Is my brokeness contagious?
It's just a weird feeling, going from daily banter to sudden silence. Like, did I say too much? Not enough? Or is this just... adulting? Where everyone gets too busy for the perpetually unemployed friend? Don't they know I need their witty banter to survive this "broke era"?! It's like, I need them to remind me that I'm still me, even if my bank account says otherwise.
Anyway, I'm trying not to spiral. Just another day in the life of your favorite broke girl.