I tried to quit my job. The words actually left my mouth.
Now reality is setting in and I realize I can't actually go through with it.
Am I always going to be a hopeless romantic shop girl? Or will I truly develop as an artist and begin to create my own universe.
Till then, till the day I leave my place of slavery, I have to work hard. If I won't be recognized for the work I've done, I want them to at least regret losing me at work.
This may not happen. Whatever.
I want play, I want to touch, I want to love, I want to see, I want to feel, I want everything.
Give it to me.
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