Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now

May 13, 2013
 I was looking for a job and then I found a job, and heaven knows I’m miserable now.

I have a secret for you all, and it actually pains me to announce, but having a life costs money. Did you know that? When you are running low on funds, it is a small victory every time you are successfully able to put your card away and walk away with your purchases. You find yourself playing Russian Roulette every time you pay for something using your debit card, getting a nervous sweat every time the transaction takes longer than 3 seconds to clear. But guess what; last night whilst innocently attempting to buy cigarettes, I got the live bullet. Card declined. Sorry. Next customer, please. I left the shop with my tail between my legs and my brain whirring away trying to work out how on earth I managed to find my bank account empty, yet again.

You all told me to go out and live my life, to experience new things and see the world. I tried, really I did. But you never told me that my bank balance would scream in protest after only a few weeks of activity. I signed onto the dole. I subsequently received two-hundred glorious pounds from a previous job that I had only worked at for two weeks. I don’t know if any of you are like me, but once presented with a sum of money I become entirely frivolous. I forget that just a few days before I was counting my pennies to scrape together enough cash to buy cigarettes. It’s been fun, at least while it lasted.

My gorgeous friend Hannah has been visiting from Australia, and she’s practically dragged me off my sofa on which I permanently reside and has forced me into being uncharacteristically sociable. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, her bewitching aura permeating into my pores and I’ve found myself smiling at strangers and doing *shudders* favours for other human beings. I went to Brighton and got a job in which my unparallelled hyperactivity can actually be considered a merit. I drank a lot of beer, and met some great people that I can hopefully count as friends upon my relocation. I met some more great friends at a Northern Soul night (Buffalo Bar, Islington – I highly recommend if you are into doing the twist all night with friendly faces) and in another uncharacteristic turn of events, I found myself wearing the same dress for 2 days and 3 nights whilst sofa surfing. This is coming from a girl who usually spends her Friday nights playing Call of Duty with her 12 year old brother.

I’ve discovered that I do actually quite like cats, even though they transform my face into a puffy disaster and make my breathing sound like Darth Vader. I stopped following my ex-boyfriend on social networks. I met up with old school friends and gushed about how grown up we all are. I washed my hair two days in a row. I drank some more beer. It was all going really well until I heard the ominous beep behind the till point notifying me my card had been declined. My Brightonian dream seems an awfully long way in the distance seeing as I can’t even afford a bus into my local town.

I actually sort of miss staying in my pyjamas all day and watching Star Wars alone in bed, getting dressed only to take a selfie to prove to my Instagram followers that I’m still alive and kicking. I miss when the only time I’d leave the house would be to either go to the off-licence or to visit my friend and dance to Korean Pop music, or if I was really lucky I’d get to do both.

One thing I’ve realised lately is that you don’t owe anybody anything. If you aren’t happy with something, then change it. Don’t do things just to be polite, do what makes you feel good. Smile at strangers, but remember - don’t give money to women bearing sob stories about needing to get home because chances are, you just might find her sat on the high-street sharing a packet of cigarettes with the local tramp, shouting obscenities at you even though you gave her a quid an hour ago and wished her well. 

You know what? I could do with that quid back. 

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