With every glass of wine, i find that i sink deeper into this marshmellow chair...trying to figure out what day it exactly is and what, if anything, i should be doing.
nothing.
I had planned my life these few shedding months, to be filled with irritating, havoc filled work. Instead I am forced to crawl up the walls by day-time television and the slow disapearing act in my kitchen pantry, until 9 o-clock skids by and i'm yanked out of my duvet-sandwhich and underwear pajamas.
When my boyfriend, Josh, and I returned back from our trip to Nova Scotia at the end of August, I was quickly hired at this local Pub as a waitress. I carry cardiac-arrest filled meals to customers, choking them down with pintS of beer, whilst suffering their sexist comments with a plastic smile. But hey, tips are good. My boss is paying me less than minimum wage, which i'm pretty sure is illegal- but i keep my hands in my pocket and do that cute-innocent-sexy smile instead of standing up for myself.
Tearing the skin off my back, is the fact that in 'real life' i don't wear make-up, cover up my unshaven legs, keep my opinions to myself or stay quiet during a sexist remark... at work, i have to and those pieces of who i am yells at me saying ' you're a sell out'.
The other waitesses/servers seem very 'into themselves' , mirror-in-the-pocket type.
Maybe the reason there is only a thin drop in this thick bottle left, between me and my boyfriend, is because my parents are like bamboo slivers up my thumb nail. I mean, I can't stay in the same room as them for more than minutes without almost going into a mundane monologue about my volcanic hatred i've held inside, and in pages, about them for the past few years about their, so called, 'parenting'.
Josh's mom said 'I love you' during a good-bye hug, this week, to me- my lips formed that uncontrollable frowning tick and i could have cried because i literally can't remember the last time my own parents said those three words. I said ' I love you' back, and i meant it.
Would I mean it if i said it to my mother? Who knows. But i do know, I'm getting that drop of wine out with my tongue.
1 comment:
Sometimes I feel like I'm trapped in this space and time. I don't understand the purpose of it or why I'm here. I suppose I could say there's a reason for everything and it will all be better soon! But really, could time crawl any slower?
I LOVE YOU! :D
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