By Comfort Ajibola.
Dear Life,
I got fired. Again.
I hate this. I have no work ethic and no sense of
responsibility, I just want the money. And who can really blame me though?
24, graduated and jobless. Fantastic. I want to say, my life is over but obviously I am going
to get a lecture about what an ungrateful spoiled brat I am and how kids in
Africa are suffering.
“News flash, I am in Africa”, I breathe out while lying face
down on my bed. This is what I get for not going after what I want. If I knew
what it was yet.
I’ve always known that I never wanted a boss, I wanted to be
my own boss. I hate taking instructions, suggestions, I just hated being told
what to do, when to do it or how.
It is the worst thing I can ever imagine
happening to me. I have a problem with almost any one telling me something from
a perspective of she is younger and dumber
so she has to listen. Screw that!
But let’s face it, no matter how old I am, I will never be
older than my parents or have enough guts to speak my mind freely to them
without getting the ‘so you are insulting me now?’
Like hello??! Why do you have to take everything so
personal? This is my life; can I please be allowed to make my own decisions.
I have resorted to living my perfect life, in my dreams and
through occasional conversations with the girls. That’s where I am free and
that never lasts long enough.
Back to the job though. This one I am glad to have lost,
maybe not fired, but hey. The company was still young but boasted as if it had
the reputation of decades. The structure and work flow was poorly organized. My
salary was shit and the environment
was even worse.
I tried to make it work but it was not so I guess it was the
right time to leave. “What am I going to do now?”, I turned over on my back and
looked out the window. The hot sun peering from behind the light colored
curtains onto the edge of my bed.
I wanted to cry for some reason, I think this is what people
do when their lives are not going according to plan. “I wish I was 17 again”, I said into the empty room. “Stop
wishing for nonsense and get up. Do something productive.” I instructed myself.
Why didn’t anyone prepare me for this? I swear it would have
been nice to have some actual clue of what adulating was like?
Now I have to sit here and pretend like I feel bad for
losing a job I clearly didn’t enjoy, so my parents can let me have a nice nap.
I wish I had some kinda memo. I’m gonna sit my kids down and
tell them all of this and be so realistic they will love me for it.
Sigh, who am I kidding?
I’m probably not gonna have any kids at this rate, no boyfriend or prospects.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself stupid”, I heard the voice
not far from me, but I was alone in the room.
“No, you’re not high. Again. Although I wish you were it
would make this so much easier”, it said once more, the invincible voice.
I looked around the small room. It was just me in here. I
sat up from the bed and opened my eyes as wide as I could to figure out if I
was dreaming or starting to go blind.
“What the -?”,
“Hey! Stop cursing!”,
I got on my knees and into the prayer position, “Jesus
Please help me”
“Maybe if you prayed more and got closer to your heavenly
father you would actually be less lazy and self-centered”, it came from right
behind me now, I was terrified to open my eyes. I squinted and held very still.
“All I’d like to say is, just stop. Listen and be observant.
Everything you need to succeed is within you”, it softened. The room suddenly became cold and I was
shivering within seconds.
“No matter what happens, You always pull through. I
know you can do it, I believe in you.”, I felt a warm hand on my shoulder as I
stayed kneeing.
It held on for a second longer then slid of.
“Feel the fear…” it whispered,
“And do it anyway” I finished as the tears washed down my
face.
The memories pouring through me. I remembered the touch. The softness
of skin and eyes filled with love...
Mom…
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