He’s Stressed

“You’re not the only one in our society who’s struggling.”

My dad rants on about his friend whose boss screwed him out of twenty-four-hundred dollars, has a son with asbergers and a depressed wife who works at Walmart while they struggle to make ends meet. I can hardly hear him over the thoughts of my own sad situation.

“He’s stressed, Sam. That’s what this world is doing to us. That’s what we’ve done to ourselves.”

I think about my impending homelessness and the way I quit my horrible job, foolishly thinking how easy it would be to find a new one with my skills in the field. I think about how I can count the number of people who care about me on one hand. I look down at my blue velvet heels and contemplate how many of those people would answer my distress call.

“Come back to the bay, you have friends here. Everyone likes you here. I know you feel like giving up, but don’t. You don’t know how much you are loved. Give it time, everything will work out.”

I remain silent as my dad carries the conversation on the other end of the phone, zoning in and out of his monologue. Am I even someone who can succeed? I’ve been down this road before, I’ve fallen down so many times I can no longer keep track. How much longer ’til I find something that works for me.

“You are not a failure, I know you’re thinking it. I don’t. I think you are a great human being, someone who can change the world for the better. I love you, Sam.”

“I love you too dad,” I murmur into the phone like I’ve lost the will to speak.

“Don’t quit at life, I know how stressed you are. Just remember, it’s not you - it’s this world.”