Killerkitti

So I've been in this mindset recently where a lot of the things I do make me think of growing up and then I get scared. Like just now I was doing the washing up and I started thinking 'When I go to uni am I gonna have to buy dishes, and pots and pans, and silverware?' And it freaked me out. And earlier I was looking on Overstock for new bedding and mum was helping me because I have no clue about bedding. I started thinking the same type of thing. It's scaring me. I don't know if I want to grow up. I know I want to leave this house, leave JerseyBut I'm like. Still freaking out secretly. Like. A lot.

Sometimes, when I'm at the Customer Service desk, register 1, I want to pull myself up on the desk. Sit right where the customers would put their goods. I want to get on the Overhead Page and just talk. Spill my guts through an open-ended phone call.
Attention Staples shoppers, today I _______________________________________________________. Fill in the blanks, empty my soul. It would be like a sigh. A release. A confession without the priest, the bench, the tiny booth. Without the 'Bless me father for I have sinned'. Without the 10 Hail Marys. The cleanest confession I'd ever have.
Sometimes, when I'm emptying the ink cartridges into the huge plastic bags, the ones with the big orange 'Staples' on them, I want to throw the ink cartridges across the store. Not the toner cartridges, just the ink. I'd aim for the ones wearing nice clean clothes. Stain their outfits as dirty as their consciences. Our collective conscience is dirty, white parchment, stained with coffee and blood. We all need saving.
We need to scream until our lungs are raw, we need to yell and claw and cry and let go. We need to take the first steps towards our own salvation.
We need to wake up.

<3

It's funny how strange reassurance can sometimes feel.

You wouldn't think the little girl in the bright red Staples shirt, nametag on display, work boots set defiantly to the pavement, could be that scary. Leaning on the hollow wall of PetSmart, swallowing lungfuls of cool September air, staring at the 8 oclock sky. In a fully lit shopping mall, it's pretty hard to be that scary. But cars slowed to look as they passed, and people watched cautiously as they wandered in with anxious dogs tugging leashes.
I'm just on my break. I'm just taking my 15 minutes.
A prisoner on a short leave. Give me an inch and I'll take a mile. Lead me to the water and I'll drink. I just do what it takes to get my paycheck, do what it takes to make it to 9:30. I am obedient. I am well trained. Maybe I do belong outside PetSmart like this.
Minutes count down like a clock to midnight on New Year's Eve. Ticking away minutes until my break ends.

Ways I Can Relate Staples To Hell:
It's very hot. (Why is it so hot in there?)
We are trapped there for a while. (Just not eternity.)
Mickey.

Don't worry about me. This is no way an 'I Hate My Job FML' type post. I like to play with words. Wordplay. Maybe my keyboard is mightier than a sword? I doubt it. Let's not test that one out.
:]