I’m going to get a crappy car and I’m excited. I am ready to let this car and all that comes with it go. This car reminds me of my marriage, I was a different person then. I drank and smoked in it. I had sex in it. I cried a lot in it. It brought me to the South. I love that car, my Cube. I’m ready to let it go. It’s not me anymore.
If I sold the car myself I could get a few grand more but I’m not in a mental place to deal with random strangers like that. I still have issues I need to work on and opening the door of my car to a stranger who found me on craigslist does not seem like a healthy option for my anxiety. I can cut my losses and choose the wiser.
Life is different out here. I like it but it’s a different world.
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