I thought things would be different by now. I seriously
thought things would be better by now. Maybe not so damn difficult. But if
things are only getting worse lately, then where’s the hope that it ever will
get better. Is there even any point in hope? Sure as hell doesn’t feel like
there is.
When I was in high school, I dreamt of days that I wouldn’t
be riddled with depression. I also knew it was going to be a battle. But I also
knew back then the it wasn’t always going to be up front and center. I knew
there would be periods of time that I was truly happy. But I thought these
periods would last longer than two days. And that’s a good run.
I never expected life to be easy. Hell, I knew it’d be hard.
I knew life itself would only get harder. But, what I honestly thought would
get better was me. I seriously had plans for myself. College was supposed to
teach me all the things I would need to know to start a great career. Instead,
I’m a college drop-out (with the government hounding me over the $50,000
student loan debt for a degree I never even got close to getting) working in a
restaurant that I hate. I loathe it. I used to love it. I loved the easy-going
atmosphere. I loved that I was great at my job and that others thought so too.
But what am I now? I’m the only person who does my job correctly. One other
person is trained to do it and my boss hates scheduling him to do it because he
doesn’t do his job. But guess what, he still has a job. And I can bet anyone’s
ass he makes at least around the same measly pay that I do. That measly pay
that doesn’t pay my bills. Much less, gives me gas money and food money. I
haven’t been grocery shopping in months because I can’t afford to. I have a
credit card maxed out. Not from huge expenditures. From putting gas in my car,
and food in my stomach. Oh, that’s the same measly pay that is less than over
half of the employees that sit on their ass while I do my job and their jobs
for them. I used to feel appreciated for my job. Now I’m used. To them, I’m the
errand bitch. But enough about my horrible job because I know what everyone is
thinking when they hear me complain about my job. Just get another one. News
flash, I’ve tried. Totally unsuccessful.
So why don’t I try to branch out and work towards my career
anyway? Because that is also panning out to nothing. Sure, I get little photo
gigs here and there. Sure my culinary knowledge is slowly expanding. But here’s
the problem. No one invests in a 22 year old college drop-out female.
No one seems to think I’m worth the time or money. I know I’d
be damn good at running my own business. Be it a studio, a catering business, a
food truck, or even a restaurant. But no one else finds the same conclusion I
do. Sure, we live in a world where women are becoming more “equal” to men. But
there’s still the problem that not only am I a female but I have an entire list
of facts about me that knock me further and further down the totem pole. 1. I’m
22. 2. I have no degree. 3. I don’t have a manager title behind me. 4. I’m not
pretty. 5. I’m not skinny. 6. I live in a shit hole. 7. I don’t know anyone
that matters. 8. It’s never been easy for me to makes friends, ergo, I have
never been popular or well-liked.
Conclusion? Why the hell do I even hope anymore that I’m
going to get out of this shithole of a life I currently have?
No comments:
Post a Comment