It’s the last week of the holidays, and god forbid school starts any later.
Truth to be told, I’m quite sick of the holidays, this one in particular. The drama has turned arid and I’ve grown numb to this certain state of mind which I’d like to refer to from now on as “pffftjesusfrickinchristherewegoagain”. The new job hasn’t been that great of a deal either. As much as I used to think so, serving up overly-jazzed skinny lattes to pompous white folks with ridiculously beautiful features isn’t that big on the satisfaction department. And the fact that the crowd that patronizes my workplace is predominantly gay isn’t as much as a dream come true as I hoped it’d be. And I have a feeling my colleagues think I’m straight, seeing how they like to involve me in this ritual of theirs which consists of a hushed down whistle and a sneer look in the eye everytime a skimpily clad bitch walks into the store. And my manager’s an asshole.
Enough about my job. (And they pay $4.50 an hour, those jerks.)
So like I was saying, life has been pretty much a dull family tram ride. If it’d to take up a lifeform, it being my life at this point of time, I’d say.. a deflated clown face balloon that frowns like a shrivelled penis. Turning 18 turned out to be pretty deja vu, there’s nothing new on this year-older palette of mine – same clothes, same taste in music, same issues. Everything an 18 year old should only care about. The search for love goes on, and the other end still remains vacant.
So yes, tell me about ‘it’. Tell me all about your how your holidays sucked. I’ll pretend to be interested.
I’ll be nice.
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