Black Coffee (Tara's Dream)|Dearest Diary, - Book 1 (unedited)

VI

Dearest diary,

I know you've heard this said before, and it's true or at least I have come to see it that way. There is something about money that changes people. Some may argue that it is not real change. They say that it is our true self finally coming out, but who cares. For me, a change is a change and I know this because of what is happening to me. Does it mean that my true self is a crazy money obsessed megalomaniac? Laugh on, I know you find it hilarious, but I do not. There is nothing funny about feeling like you are finally losing it, like you are one small step away from having a pair of wild eyes, a flaring nose and shaggy hair, the result of all the hair pulling I have been doing lately. I mean, I thought that being rich would mean that I would finally be happy. After all financially independent people do look like they've got it all together, right? But I am not. I am this close to losing it. I can't even sleep at night. My sleep is filled with nightmares, reflections and a million terrifying ways in which I could end up being poor again! Okay... it's hilarious! Fine, keep on laughing, but know this, this is the first and last time I'll open up to you again!

***

When I got home from my meeting I realised two things. One, I did not want to ever be poor again and two; I still had one more month left of this so called poverty. In my study, I pulled out a sheet of paper from my printer and began to plan. I needed to plan on how I would spend my money and since I was a very good thinker, I figured out that reckless spending was not a sustainable plan for poverty prevention. With that in mind, I came up with two solutions. One, I needed to invest my money into a profitable business and two; I really needed to get a job before my free months of rent were over.

"Linda! I need a job."

"What? Why?" The surprised woman exclaimed with a laugh and I was not happy. This was a serious matter and she was taking it like a joke.

"Why? Why does anyone ever need a job?" I asked glaring at the phone. I had placed the call on speaker and was seated behind my desk with a very thoughtful look on my face.

"To make ends meet?" she told me.

"Exactly and I need to make my ends meet."

"Attara, have you been drinking?" The woman laughed and my glare intensified.

"Do not insult me Linda." I riposted sternly.

"I am sorry. I just had to make sure. I mean, why would a rich girl like you, who could possibly go to sleep for the rest of their lives and money would still flow in want a job?"

I opened my mouth to try and explain but every time I did my words failed me. I realised how hard it was to try and explain my reasoning to her and because of that I gave up trying.

"You don't get me!" I finally answered her as I gave in to my already frayed up emotions.

"Try me?" she challenged me, but given my moodiness, I was not up to it.

"I'm tired Linda.” I told her. “Just help me find that job, will you?" She went quiet for a few seconds, and I crossed my fingers hoping that she was thinking about it.

"Okay, I'll do it." She finally told me and I almost jumped with excitement.

"Thank you Linda!"