Payday, Broke, Payday, Broke

Malice is doing fucking awful keeping the bills paid on time. And I was doing so well for a stretch. It's disheartening because every payday is a reminder of how much I depend on this day job. It is fucking murder trying to get ahead.

Debt kills me. It adds up. It haunts you. You're out of work for a month or two -- years ago -- and those costs stick around. I'm not talking about going out and splurging. Not going out, not doing anything, just standing in one place for a month in this city is expensive.

You know what I want? Money. Success and money. The artistic aspect is a dream I've had and worked at since childhood. The money aspect is something I picked up post-college. I just want enough of it to not have to think about it all the time. To not have to think about what I can order at a restaurant or how many drinks I can have at a bar.

Please! Somebody! Pay me! Malice needs to get paid!