I’m tired of apologizing for being poor.

Somewhere.

It’s not something I lead with, so there’s never a formal apology. I don’t wander up and down store isles telling people, “I’m poor, please forgive me.”

Though maybe it is… sometimes my anxieties tell me others can trace the stench of poverty right down to my food choices. That somehow others can see the countless minutes spent free-falling in an internal shame spiral when my cart isn’t…