INT. WAITING ROOM. DAY-

A grey haired woman sits on a couch facing the camera talking head style (When Harry Met Sally inspired).

Violet

When people ask, and they don't as much anymore, I usually say I'd imagine life is a lot slower for me. A lot simpler. I go grocery shopping, I knit, I have time to have my routines. I honestly feel a little bad for these spandex-ed freaks. I say that with love of course, if anyone's the freak, it's me.

CUT TO:

INT. GROCERY STORE. DAY-

Violet at the grocery store. She drops a cucumber and before it can touch the ground, twelve masked superheroes super speed to catch it, accidentally running into each other and crushing the cucumber.

Violet nearly falls over before they all catch her.

Violet (VO)

Yeah, it can get a little annoying sometimes. Since all these weirdos were born with immortality, I'm pretty much a God to them. They all stayed 22 years old while I grew up. I think the group created to protect me has gotten a little out of hand, however.

CUT TO:

EXT. BURNED DOWN CHURCH. DAY-

Hordes of spandex-ed superheroes wearing the letters "HPV"shout and scream at a group of other spandex-ed superheroes wearing the letters "HIV".

Violet (VO)

I don't understand why the Help Protect Violet group can't convince the Help Insurrect Violet group to stop burning down churches. I'm Jewish for Christ sakes.

CUT TO:

INT. WAITING ROOM. DAY-

Violet looks down at her hands.

Violet

I've always seen myself as the lucky one. Everyone else has this idiotic need to prove themselves and I'm just Violet. Always have been always will be.

I thought it was a support group.

They seemed SUPER cool

about the whole virgin thing.

Not like my friends at school.

Everyone wearing monochromatic

loungewear reminded me of

Kim, Khloe and Kourtney.

I felt immediately at ease.

I'd trust those three with my life!

When I told Katie I was still a virgin

she laughed and told the whole school.

When I told Cloud I was still a virgin,

I was given a throne and cake!

It wasn't until the throne reclined

to become an altar

that I became a bit suspicious

My attempt to rise from the altar

was stopped by Cloud and her sister wife,

Asthma.

I grabbed a piece of cake from my pocket

(which I had been saving for later)

and whirled it at the cultists heads.

Fleeing the campsite, I found my phone

and furiously downloaded Tinder.

I would not let this happen again.

(To me at least)

Living in New York has taught me the value of my own time. Other cultures (European, Californian, etc.) have often critiqued New Yorkers for "always being in a rush." Some have said that New Yorkers speed walk through their lives. However, I just see that as prioritizing efficiency, which is why I've always preferred receiving bad news first. If there's a problem that needs to be solved, I can figure it out during the time it takes for you to tell me the good news. My therapist says that this is a way to "postpone my own happiness" or whatever that's supposed to mean. I started seeing her as a way to help with my depression and anxiety. Being depressed can make getting out of bed feel like an insurmountable task. Putting on my bra can be as draining as trying to watch the first 2020 Presidential Debate sober. My mentally healthy roommates find it hard to understand why my room is perpetually in a state of disarray and my laundry bag overfloweth. However, I think it's even harder for them to understand why I'm still unemployed. I don't really get it myself, but I learned in college that the television industry is a little tricky to break into. When I graduated I assumed that it would take two, maybe three months to get a job but I quickly realized that I wouldn't be able to speed walk into a writer's room. Over the past six months of unemployment, my preference for hearing bad news first has developed into a need. Every new job posting is a vehicle for the waning hope I have for my career. Therefore, the sooner I get rejected the sooner I can get back to scouring jobs on Indeed and LinkedIn. The amount of time it takes for me to overcome disappointment is the same amount of time it takes for me to write another cover letter.