I didn’t like where I was coming from.
My roommate was a legit psychopath. Not in the everyday misused adjective type of way, but the real deal. Reading through the list of symptoms, she hit every mark, sending a wave of chills through my body. Goosebumps made fear visible. She thrived off sex, drama and literal filth. Dirty tampons, half eaten dinners, pizza boxes, hair extensions, blow dryers, used sex toys, to be pulled off the floor and used again immediately. Let your imagination run wild. Yes that was there too.
I didn’t like where I was going.
No one would let me enhance my service skills, by allowing me to be a server. Except this place. I am so grateful for the opportunity, but this restaurant is a plantation. White men using black spaces. I can’t get through my shift without being inebriated. On top of the drinks the bartender provides, I hide bourbon in my coffee, I hide a flask in my make-up bag. It’s like I’m trying to kill myself before this place kills me. When will I be free?
You are exactly where you need to be.
Says the proverbial universe, but why am I here? Why is god punishing me? The world hates me.
I am at a complete loss, when suddenly the clouds break. Looks like we can have that picnic in the park after all. My roommate gets into legal troubles. She’s screwed over every roommate, except me. I’m her karma. I leave the plantation with reparations.
You were never stuck, you were being rerouted.
Trust the universe it’s wiser than you.
