I spent weeks on a steady diet of pizza and TV reruns. The circles under my eyes grew darker and my stubble started to transform into a Grizzly Adams knockoff beard. I shuffled about in my tiny apartment knocking aside cans and empty pizza boxes as I slid further into a zombified stupor. Rent was going to be impossible to pay and then it (with some applied flawed logic) wouldn’t be my problem anymore. I muttered about how much my job had sucked and how I should have left the week after I began.
I had stayed at the job though, the job my parents had found for me when I was fresh out of college. They said this was the best way to work your way up in the world, hard work and patience. I believed them and stayed at that cruddy, paper pushing job for two years. I stayed there mostly because it was in my comfort zone. I did every trivial task they asked me to…
I pushed a stack of dirty plates and cups into the greasy sink water. “My apartment is a mess just like my life…”