roots before branches

Working at the shop is pretty fun anyways. If you like animals. I’ll be needing the extra help. Troye’s pregnant, so in a few months she’ll be needing to take it easy and stuff.

I’ll take it. Yeah.

I can see if the office I work at needs any new receptionists if you’d like?

Sure. Thanks, Naomi.

I sadly don’t. I’m sorry, Violet. Did you look online?

I can’t imagine having access to internet when I’m living on a park bench, so, not recently. No.

Apple probably will need a new technician by… tomorrow. 

Get yourself together, Wyatt.

I honestly don’t have a clue. You need help looking around? I’d be glad to help.

I’ll figure it out, Jack. Thanks.

There are a few places at the college that are hiring, I think. The book store is always looking for charismatic people to sell $300 dollar textbooks. 

I wouldn’t call myself charismatic at the moment.

I could help, but I’m unemployed and broke as shit.

Ditto.

I can’t think of anywhere right now….. I honestly wish I could help you. Have you tried the yellow pages?

That’s fine. You don’t have any responsibility to a stranger, anyway.

I could, uh, try to get you a job at the bakery, if you want?

No... no, that’s fine. I’d be a disaster in there.

You can always come and work with Troye and I.

I actually... I’m tempted to take you up on that.

They’re always looking for people at the bar, princess, especially since I’m gonna be gone. You eighteen?

I can’t -- work at a bar. Thanks, though.

I’m never sure how to begin these. But, I’m thinking writing down what I’m feeling might help me... pick myself up? Get my life together? I’ll admit, I’ve never had myself together, not a moment in my pathetic life, but right now... it’s like when your room hasn’t been cleaned in months, and your mom’s stopped bugging you about it. When you’re behind on all of your assignments, and suddenly, all you want to do is scream... and end it. End it so you won’t have to clean up the mess you made on your own, because shoving everything under the bed or into the closet isn’t fixing anything anymore. Because you have no self motivation to actually get out of bed and do something.

I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. My life just last year. My life five years ago. Things weren’t this difficult. My brother was my brother. Not someone that itched to destroy me. When my brother was my best friend. If he’d just asked me, just once. If he’d just told me how he felt. I would’ve handed it all over to him. Without a second of doubt. I would’ve given him everything. But he made a monster out of me. He took more than my magic. 

I’m 23. I shouldn’t have to deal with the guilt of murdering countless people because I wasn’t in my right mind. Hurting someone I truly cared about, someone I could’ve -- or should’ve -- given a chance, because of what my brother did to me. I shouldn’t have to be afraid to function. I shouldn’t have had to go through that torture. I shouldn’t have to deal with the fact that they sterilized me. And I’m not. I’m not dealing with it. Because everyone’s gone, and I don’t know how to deal with it on my own. I can’t deal with it on my own. 

I want to go back to her. The girl I was last year. The one that watched Iron Man to feel better. The girl that slept with her pillow pet. The one that named her truck Karrie, because she thought it was punny. The girl that wanted love, even after all the loss she’d suffered. But, just like that damn old truck, I’m gone. And there’s no way I’ll ever go back to her.

Maybe I’ll be someone better.