I was on the 10:30 bus to Boston, somewhere south of the common, to the first business that actually called me back after I applied for a job opening. My music rattled my brain around like a maraca, but the bus seemed too loud for me to even consider taking my headphones off. Externally, I was in the best cosplay of a normal woman I could muster, and internally, I was preparing myself for another few months of unemployment. When I was a little girl, I always wanted to go to the big city, but now that I was here, I just wanted to go home. If I was on vacation, I’d probably be a little happier.

I looked at my reflection in the window once again, noting my acne that wouldn’t clear up despite a week of every skin care product I could find. It’s a miracle my applications actually get looked at before they go into the garbage. At least my hair looked decent. My mother always told me life would stop being a beauty competition after high school, but she was dead wrong. Or maybe, things were better back in her day. At least I had the outfit down to a tee: a button up shirt and a pencil skirt. I really looked the part if you didn’t look at my face. Or my sneakers. Two sizes too big, of course. I didn’t want my employer thinking I was fat and lazy, or something. Last time I had an interview, I wore clothes that were my size and got told they were “unfitting for the school environment.” Lovely. Apparently my attendance was bad, whoops. In my defense, I got high honors anyways. A sudden ding interrupted my thoughts as a broadcast began playing through the speakers.

“Now arriving at Washington Street.”

Five more stops. I leaned back in my seat, utterly drained of energy. I looked around the bus to see that my train car was completely empty, which was nice. Washington Street must’ve been a popular stop. I don’t know when I came to hate the presence of other people, all I know is at some point, I was a social butterfly. Always waving to other people when I passed them, always striking up conversation, always smiling… When was the last time I actually smiled? I tried to do it then, but all that happened was my mouth forming a thin straight line. Very useful. Now that I think about it, my dad told me to stop waving to strangers. Thanks Dad. Whatever, I’ll deal with my problems later. I have a job interview to do. It would be nice to talk about this to someone, but I don’t have a someone. Probably because I hate talking to people. Or because I’m terrible at conversation. The fact I look at everyone with the same lifeless expression doesn’t help. Which is my fault, probably. Whatever. This sucks, I really thought good grades would at least get me making minimum wage, but here I am. 

Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure I had bigger dreams than making minimum wage. What was it? I think I wanted to be a singer? Yeah, that was never gonna happen. Pop stars need to look good, and need to have a voice decent enough to save with post production. Thank God I gave that up. I also wanted to be a firefighter at some point, and a cheerleader, and then a surgeon. I don’t know why I even thought I was gonna get anywhere with that. From the moment I was born, my fate was sealed. I’m just glad I didn’t sacrifice everything for some stupid dream like my dad did. I really could’ve used that money. It’s fine, I guess. I’m fine. I just need this job interview to go well.