(no subject)
a blond guy, not very tall, gaunt with bright blue eyes, came to the dressing room at my work. i went to greet him.
"hello, how many do you have to try on?"
"hey, what's up? how are you?"
"hey."
"you look really familiar. i recognise your face. i think we went to high school together."
i screwed up my face. "maybe. what's your name?"
"zach."
"zach what?"
"zach heine."
"oh, shit. i'm celeste."
"yeah, that's right. how's it goin'?"
"good. well, it was very interesting running into you."
i knew full well who he was. zach heine was a popular kid at my school. when i was in middle school he told me to stop making jokes because i wasn't funny. i still remember the hurt balling up inside my chest when he said that in front of my entire texas history class. some times i pretend i don't know people from high school. it rarely works to my advantage.
funny enough, he came to my register not twenty minutes later. he and i very uncomfortably chatted while i rang him up.
"so what do you do now?"
"oh, i'm a photographer and i make movies."
"wow, that's great."
"yeah, what about you?"
"well, i graduated a year ago and i'm working now, but i plan on opening my own vintage store with a tattoo shop attached. kinda my little dream."
"yeah? that's good. we all have our dreams, right?"
i was a little upset by the commment. we all have our dreams? as if that one is unattainable? as if now that i work retail after college i'm doomed to mediocrity? i folded his things and told him to have a nice night, but in my head i was screaming: FUCK YOU, YOU MISERABLE PIECE OF BOURGEOIS SHIT. I'M BETTER THAN YOU'LL EVER BE AND I'LL ACTUALLY BE SUCCESSFUL INSTEAD OF HOPING....
"hello, how many do you have to try on?"
"hey, what's up? how are you?"
"hey."
"you look really familiar. i recognise your face. i think we went to high school together."
i screwed up my face. "maybe. what's your name?"
"zach."
"zach what?"
"zach heine."
"oh, shit. i'm celeste."
"yeah, that's right. how's it goin'?"
"good. well, it was very interesting running into you."
i knew full well who he was. zach heine was a popular kid at my school. when i was in middle school he told me to stop making jokes because i wasn't funny. i still remember the hurt balling up inside my chest when he said that in front of my entire texas history class. some times i pretend i don't know people from high school. it rarely works to my advantage.
funny enough, he came to my register not twenty minutes later. he and i very uncomfortably chatted while i rang him up.
"so what do you do now?"
"oh, i'm a photographer and i make movies."
"wow, that's great."
"yeah, what about you?"
"well, i graduated a year ago and i'm working now, but i plan on opening my own vintage store with a tattoo shop attached. kinda my little dream."
"yeah? that's good. we all have our dreams, right?"
i was a little upset by the commment. we all have our dreams? as if that one is unattainable? as if now that i work retail after college i'm doomed to mediocrity? i folded his things and told him to have a nice night, but in my head i was screaming: FUCK YOU, YOU MISERABLE PIECE OF BOURGEOIS SHIT. I'M BETTER THAN YOU'LL EVER BE AND I'LL ACTUALLY BE SUCCESSFUL INSTEAD OF HOPING....