I feel weak. Worthless.
Ever since I lost my job three days ago, I feel like a part of my heart shattered into billions of pieces. Almost as if my life was a big puzzle piece and I just lost the major part.
All I've been doing these past couple of days, have consisted of laying on my bed in my room, thinking about all of the things I have done wrong in my life. And so far, I don't feel any better.
The life workers here have been bugging me, asking if I'm alright or need anything; which by any means is totally understandable and predictable, but still, I want my space and privacy.
I just don't know what to do honestly. It's not like I can just get up and yell out loud, "I'm going to get a job!", and then happily walk out the door, confident. No. That's not how jobs work. Matter of fact, it takes weeks, months, just to get a new job. Plus, I'm pretty sure everyone at my school has taken up all the job offers around where I stay.
Yes, I know. I know I'm making such a big deal out of not having a job. But I had big plans with the money I was earning. So having that advantage taken away from me, well, it's hard. It's almost as if my plans are ruined now.
My plans with the money that I had, was to move to London, England, and start a new life. A new life where I can just relax and have fun while I'm still young, you know? I want to be able to look back at my life when I'm a elder, and be able to say at least one good thing that has happened to me in my life time.
Which now, might not happen, sadly.
Looking up at my ceiling, I crossed my arms together over my chest and snuggled into my blankets a little more, becoming more comfortable than I was in my first state, and became more enveloped in the warmth of my blankets.
Now what do I think about? Unicorns and lollipops? Nah.
My eye's suddenly opened and began to wander all over the room, until they finally landed on my desk in the corner of the room. There sat the small white envelope I was given on my last day of my job. The last envelope I dreaded to see. But there it is. Sitting there. Mocking me.
I mentally groaned and began to unwrap myself from my soft blankets, planning on grabbing the paper to see what it's in it. Because now? I'm quite curious myself. And it is my note and all, so I can open it. Sure I can.
What the hell? Why am I being so hesitant to open something that's mine?
Welcome to my conflicting life.
Lazily, I stood up and straightened out my pajamas, then made my way over to the paper, causing the floor boards to squeak ever so lightly, causing me to stop every once in a while to make sure I'm not going to wake anyone up.
One step. Two step. Three step. Four.
Each step taken was like a mini heart attack to me. Because part of me wants to know what's in the envelope, but then again, if it's something bad, I don't want to know.
Ever so slowly, my hand grabbed hold of the paper, beginning to drag it off of the table and then up in front of my face for better vision.
"To Miss Madison Richey,
I'm sorry to inform you, but this is sadly your last day at work. You have been late one to many times, and we really need the extra hand here at the work since we're quite popular in drink brands. And it just seems as tho you don't take work seriously, and that's not good. But, don't blame it on yourself hun, I understand you're going through a tough time right now. I wish you the best of luck at the orphanage, and hopefully you can run into another job that you can handle at your own pace.
Always in our hearts,'
~ Brenda C.
I quickly flipped the piece of paper over to make sure their was no more writing, and to my surprise, their was. But it wasn't exactly writing. It was a check. My final check of work.
Slowly, I began to peel the check off of the paper and sat in it my money savings box; which was filled all the way to the top with checks from work and extra money I have been saving up. I'm not lying when I say that I'm taking this dream of mine pretty seriously.
I just feel like something is drawing me towards London, England. Or perhaps, someone? I don't know, maybe I'm just getting my fantasy going.
Pushing the thoughts away, I took a glance at the clock on my night stand and saw that it read, "12:30 am," great. It's midnight and I can't sleep. What's something I can do at midnight that's fun?
Oh yeah, that's right. Absolutely nothing. Especially with the fact that I'm surrounded by little kids. And if I were to accidentally wake them up, all hell will break loose.
My eye's wandered down to my money box, then suddenly I was stabbed with curiosity. How much money do I exactly have saved up? I should check. I really should.
Effortlessly, I picked my box back up and took it with me back to my bed quietly, not forgetting to grab a spare calculator on my way there.
Once I got situated, I stuck my hand into the box and pulled out a huge bundle of papers, then began to sort out the money amounts.
This is going to take a while.
-
I sat there on my bed with my mouth gaped open, staring down at my calculator. No way in hell do I have that much money?!
This is impossible. I mean, yes, I did work at Starbucks for a good amount of time, 2 years to be exact, but it still seems so unrealistic?
How much money do I have, you might ask? $75,000 dollars.
Seventy-five, freaking thousand.
I am honestly so awestruck right now, that I don't even know what to do.
This is enough money for me to be able to buy a apartment in London, and move there! And it's enough money to last me a while with groceries and toiletries, until I can get a job in London!
Something finally right has happened.
Maybe this is my chance.
My chance to...
Just Breathe.
