It's personal

At first I was on top of the world.

Now I'm reduce to some made, cleaning & taking

order's. I can't believe this is actually happening to me.

I don't understand what I've done wrong.

It's not like I'm lazy, unpucdtive.

I'm being replace for some chipper, always happy person.

I think I would be that chippy, & smily, & "OH MY GOODNESS"

kind of girl. But this job has broken down my spirits soo much.

I don't really feel happiness at my job.

I don't feel wanted, needed, accepted at my job.

If there was a coffee list. I would be the person running &

getting the coffee for the more important people.

I can see it, their sitting in huge leather chairs by Chanel

Wrapped in expensive dimanods. & Their one of a kind.

& I would be the little slave girl with nappy pig tales,

& stains & holey shoes. Short, & dirty. Serving them their

8 bucks Starbucks coffee with fancy holder's.

I bitch & complain about the misery I suffer at this job.

I wonder if I could seriously live off of 6hours.

Not counting that I have no money to spear for extra's.

Such as the important of gas, food, & even a smile.

Affording thiftstore clothes has overpriced me.

Poor, what does that mean?

Speak, I...

There is way too many "I's" in this entry.

I'm fading quicky to the dark side.

I'm no longer a worker there. I'm their made.

& I'm just upset that no one, no one even took a chance

to stand up for me. Putting those hours next to my name

showed me for once & all.

I was forgotten.. on purpose!

xxx