I was attempting to get on the escalator yesterday.
A lady bumped into me, a little confused, blocking my entrance.
"I am sorry," she said, "I can't decide where I am going."
Me too, I thought to myself.
I got a sandwich at chik-fil-a. Wheat bun. No pickles. So they put a bright orange sticker on the package to let me know I am special. I thought that was sweet.
I am working now. I work too much at two jobs that don't really stir up anything authentic inside of me. Yesterday when I was eating eggs and an english muffin, because it was the only food in my house, I was hoping that the eggs were bad from the warm refrigerator I had during the ice storm, and that I would get salmonella poisoning so that I would be able to call both the jobs and tell them I wouldn't be able to make it. I think that's a good indication that something needs to change.
1 comment:
during the holidays, my brother was hoping that terrorists would attack his school so he wouldn't have to go back. I told him that there were many times in my life that I wished to somehow get in a freak accident and end up in the hospital to avoid life in general. where does the change occur?
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