Moments of insecurity.
I'd love for my family to look at me and see something to be proud of. I've taken courses and grown from a kid, but what do I have to show for it? Nothing.
I'm working retail. It's a job, but hardly one now. The economic decline, that great catch-all excuse for everything, has almost put me on the street. Two more weeks to see, and then it'll be time to decide to stay or go.
It's a shame that this moment didn't come two weeks ago, or else there'd be a wedding for me to attend.
This is a disaster in slow motion. Perhaps soon I'll just quit. Quit. Quit. Quit. And travel. Hit the road. Throw my phone into a ditch (first thing it'll be good for besides a paper-weight), and just disappear for a few weeks. Or months. The whole summer, maybe.
I'd muse if anyone would even notice, but I already know the answer.
No. No they wouldn't. And I wouldn't care much either.
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