I went to sleep happy last night, but I woke up feeling glum. The midday sun is up and scorching, ready to singe what remains of my dry, spinster life.
Anyway, I went down, ready to soldier on through another day, and my mom started chatting to me about going abroad. She said, no offense, but I think that if I don't go abroad (to make more money, of course), we won't be able to buy our own house. I, of course, painfully agreed. At the rate my so-called career is going, I'll die hungry and with my eyes open. Naturally, I don't want my family suffering the same fate. They obviously don't want that too.
Will 27 keep talking to me if he learns I'm just this underachieving, without a backbone old maid? I wonder who among my very few real friends would stick when they get tired of my miserable aura.
I'm not living the life I want. I don't think this is meant for me. There must be something else or I wouldn't be wishing for it.
As usual, "Everybody Hurts" by R.E.M. is my go-to song for times like this.
Bye, nonexistent reader! Don't let the sun scorch your parade.
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