I seriously need to get out of retail.
My formative years are being wasted on fighting for minimum wage. I can feel the youth draining out of me like blood hemorrhaging from a slit wrist. I’m 22 going on a burial plot. My mind and body are aching for change, screaming for it, and yet I keep on with the routine, tricking my better sense by telling it I’m simply waiting for something — some light at the end of the tunnel or whatever saving grace that comes along — when every iota inside me knows differently.
I’m privy to microscopic encounters with strangers who only solidify my assumption that people are, on average, becoming dumber. Dumber and meaner. The society I’m caught in continues to disappoint me and I keep on disappointing myself by putting up with it.
I seriously need to get out of retail.
