pants are the worst

14 Jan


Some time during lunch I got a text message: “que paso mamacita!” It was Wolf checking to see that I was alive, I guess, because after replying with nothing really he seemed satisfied and didn’t bother to say more. I was okay with that. Work is boring. I mean, I’ve been keeping busy. Real busy. But they’re only numbers, and they’re not important. Sort of just doing my thing–drinking tea, making typing noises, pressing buttons on the copier, and pretending I care by slamming machines when they jam. #officelyf. I feel like a person I never thought I’d be. And you might roll your eyes and think that everyone feels that or that I had an insanely narrow vision of my future to not have at least imagined this was a possibility, and THAT MAY BE SO. But I stopped wanting to be a veterinarian when I admitted to how little I enjoyed math or science. I wanted to be a writer or an artist, someone with all the feelings and very little money. When I was twelve, I even considered becoming a singer, which is surprising to me now, but I had dreams, baby, and they never ever ever involved slacks.



One Response to “pants are the worst”

  1. Simple Heart Girl January 14, 2015 at 8:50 pm #

    I wish I could draw like you. : )

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