This is life.

80 ➤ Un-break my heart

When my shifts are over I wave goodbye to my co-workers and Alex. I'm about to leave but I hear my name being called. "Britney-" He pulls me in for a tight hug and I gasp in pain. "Get off me." I push Alex's body off of mine and hold my torso. "You need to be more careful." I tell him. "Sorry. I just thought you needed a hug. Take it easy." He pats my head and I smile before leaving the store. I'm tired after a hard day at work. Not to mention the weather is far too high. Despite that, I go to a nearby smoke store and buy a packet of cigarettes. They've always eased my pain, which is ironic but explicable to me, especially with all of the emotions I feel.

As I stand on the curb in the hot sun and wait for a taxi to appear, a person shoves me from behind. I fall to my side and groan. I look to see a man about my age on the floor beside me, looking apologetic. "Can you please watch where you're going?" I hiss as I attempt to stand up but the man stands up first and offers me his hand. I don't take it and stand up by myself because I'm fearful of how tight his grip may be. My hands are sore and numb. "Britney?" I look up to him and frown. He must have heard about me. I think everyone has, by now. "Yes?" "It's me, Mark. Mark Jones? Maybe you don't remember but you helped tutor me in chemistry when I was a senior two years ago." When he speaks his name I smirk. "Oh, I remember. How are you?" "Well, I've been great ever since you helped me. I'm twenty, now, and I got into a pharmaceutical course at Columbia. I'm almost done, actually. I'll be a qualified pharmacist by the time next year starts, hopefully by the end of the next winter." I want to go back into the past and slap myself for making such a over complicated and hard decision of becoming a doctor. It would have been best to choose a similar career choice or I may as well have become a pharmacist. At least I would've been successful. Hell I probably could've done honours without a problem and finish within two years instead of over three. I could have been properly employed and so much of my life would be worth living. My future wouldn't be as unfulfilling as it is now. I wasted so much effort and money in trying to become a doctor only to give up because I couldn't keep up with the expenses.

"That's great, congratulations." I sigh. "Oh I'm sorry, did I hurt you? I didn't mean to make you fall, I was running because I was trying to get to the subway and catch my train, but I think I already missed it." He rambles. "It's okay. Well it was nice seeing you again." I see a taxi and hold up my hand to catch the driver's attention. He sees me and it soon pulls over to the curb. I open the door and get inside of the vehicle. "Wait," Mark holds the door open before I could close it. "Um, I know this might be sudden but do you want to go out or something? I mean we need to catch up and everything." I scoff under my breath and shake my head. "No, I don't think so." I deny his suggestion. "Well...can I at least get your number? Who knows I might need your help again in the future."

I begin to laugh. "You want some numbers? Alright, I'll give you some numbers. I have 0 friends, and I had 0 hours of sleep last night. I had 2 shifts today and stood on my damn feet for almost 8 hours, and for what? To make only 3 sales all because customers were scared of my hands that are fucked forever which you didn't even seem to notice. I had 7 people die because of my mistakes, and I have 1 funeral to go to, which, ironically enough, I was the cause of. I currently have 34 stitches all over my body because I was stabbed 2 times, had 1 shot into my hand, and 1 huge fucking piece of glass put into my leg to stop me from walking because a crazy person tried to kill me. 18 is the number of cigarettes I plan to smoke when I get home, and the number I intend to punch you if and when I get the chance. On a scale of 1 to 10 -1 being absolute shit and 10 being just delightful- negative 23 is the number of my current mood. Right now, I have exactly 1 dumbass frat boy trying to hit on me for a reason that I don't really know considering I've been looking like a mess for months now. 764-8320, you wanted my number, there you go. Now I don't know if you got any of that, but I don't really care. I'm sorry but I'm not usually someone who tolerate's stupid shit. I may be blonde now but don't generalise. I'm not as dumb as I look." I slam the door shut and tell the driver the address to my apartment and he drives off. I see Mark with a speechless expression as he stood on the curb. "Boy you sure told him." Commented the driver. "I'm not in the mood."