Dear Salary, grow up!

Dear Salary,
It is with great grief and anguish that I write this letter to you. Salary, when we first met I was an innocent, naïve young thing of 24. You promised me the world, whispered seductive lies in my ears about the many things you would do for me and I believed them all.

Five years later, Salary, and I wish I had never met you. Every end of the month you raise my hopes only for them to be dashed again.
Salary, do you suffer from Kwashiorkor? Why do you only shrink, and never expand? Look at the things I am meant to do with you- tithe, pay rent, save, invest, and at least get my hair done once a month… the list goes on, but after paying rent, many times you cough and sputter and come to a halt, like a battered old jalopy!!

Salary, look at my unmanicured nails, look at my slim waistline thanks to the many kilometres I walk. Look at even the cheapest car on the road that I will never be able to buy, all because of you! I blame you salary, and I hate you, yet I love you still, because I need you so much. What kind of relationship is this that we have? It is so toxic!!

Salary, I have tried many things to make you grow. I have worked myself to the bone but no. You continue to stare at me with your glassy, dead eyes, like a stuffed animal in a museum. Oh salary! What have I ever done to you to make you run away from me so? Have I not treated you well, made you a nice little home in that bank you like?

Have I not resisted taking loans that would only hurt you, dear salary? Have I not sang your praises every time you come to visit, brief and unsatisfying as those visits are? Salary, look how many homes you have broken! How many marriages are failing and how many have committed suicide, all because of you!

Salary, we cannot go on like this any longer. You must grow up!