Phrase 1: I am out of my mind, feel free to leave a message.
I am out of my mind, feel free to leave a message I think as I hear my apartment phone ring. I’m too wasted to get it and the bruise on my knee is a testament to that. God, they must be desperate to reach me if they call that phone. The message tone beeps and a familiar voice floats out.
“Carly? Pick up! I know you are there. Listen, we should talk about this. Just because the job didn’t come through doesn’t mean the end of the world. It doesn’t mean the end of you or your career. I need to know that you are okay. Just give me a call, okay? I love you” Sam pleads, before hanging up the phone.
I can’t find it in me to listen to their words of wisdom. I am drowning in self-pity and wine because that’s the kind of fucked-up I am. It might not be the end of the world to them, but it is to me. I have dreamed of presenting my art in Millennium Galleries, knowing that was I was worthy of calling myself an artist. It seems like such a foolish dream now.
Hours and Hours of my life have been spent of dreaming of new worlds and finding inspiration in the mundane. There are hours of sleep that I will never get back because I stayed up till three in the morning sketching. I put myself through college for this. I went to the best and I worked to be the best.
I tried and I failed. I had all the qualities for success, including the most important: passion. A passion to create beautiful artwork that would touch the souls of others. In the end, none of this was enough for me to get the job. I thought the people who had the most passion were supposed to get the dream job.
I hear the house phone ring once more and think I am out of my mind, feel free to leave a message.
