I want to be with my family , not at work .
I want to have fun.
How do I make time when all I can afford to do is sit at this desk?
I pick up the ugly spiral cord phone when I hear her voice .
“It is only money ” my sister says as I cringe.
I hang up.

My blue pen scratches away at a paper on a plain white desk, in the office.
I throw down the pen, and sit for a minute, clenching my fists.
I glare at the gross looking old painting on the wall.
That’s it; I stab the pen into the desk.
Then begin to write again.

What’s the point ?
I know what to write on these reports by heart anyway, I think about my job, it requires too much attention.
It is pulling me away from what is important.
I need it to go on though, food, warmth , and clothes are all that matters.

I wonder how my friends are doing, at the outlet without me.
Their drama still comes second to the money I make for family.
I close my eyes think about what I could be doing.
Partying, caring about nothing; like any other woman in her 20’s.

I close my eyes again and sigh.
Instead of thinking of life normally all I can do is sit there wondering when am I going to die.
“What might my sisters think of me now” I ask myself in a whisper .
Then I drift off to sleep.
In my wake I make a decision.
“I quit this never ending job in museum office, I am becoming a photographer!” I yell at my snooty boss,
I walk out with all the office supplies hiding in my purse, I can taste his anger, like blood in my mouth.