Try me. (The ramblings of a millionaire) in Musings

I hate that for me to gain any sort of respect I have to play the rich boy card.... like I might look like trash but I’m dressed in Balenciaga, carrying an Hermés bag living in a 8500 sq ft apartment in the city… fucking try me again… try me the fuck again and see how chewed up you will end up… like not to brag, cause it’s stupid— if I’ve made myself and my networth is 2.34 Million and the nigga I’m engaged with his trust fund alone is worth somewhere, I know, is like 37.5 Million and because I’m poor compared to him… we live in a very “humble” penthouse… and yes I know it’s awful, but I have white polar bear carpets. Don’t fucking judge me! Alex didn’t buy the apartment wanting white polar bear pelts all over the living room.
I hate money… I hate everything about it and compared to Alex I’m super poor.

Fuck!!!

I hate the way that Alex just sits on the fucking terrace looking at me, im stepping on heated floors and he’s just sitting there…

“Babe I got this, this what you want?”

“No!” I burst out
“Shut your fucking mouth up, Andy” he said “you’re fucking amazing, I run the world babe” he hugged me and tried kissing me.
“Don’t try to woo me with money Alexander, cause I have at least 35 million including your ring and all the jewelery.

“You’re not stupid” he said holding my face to his “you’re so beautiful, you don’t even know how beautiful you are”