This is Not Jealousy
Nothing wise, then.
Only this: no one should have to apologize for needing help. Not at seven. Not at seventy.
You crying in your car afterward does not make you weak. It means you haven’t gone numb in the places that matter. Keep that.
As for the second job, I dislike it on principle already. Not the work. The men.
I know the type. They mistake access for invitation and a tired smile for permission. Be rude if you need to be. Rudeness is cheaper than repair.
And no, before you get smart with me, this is not jealousy. It is experience.
There’s a difference. Probably.
—Ash
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