So.

My parent’s gas station was closed down by Mobil.
This put them out of work.
They needed to find work.
My uncle, who owns a profitable cell phone repair shop, suggested we open one up in San Diego.
My dad agreed with this idea.

My dad told me all these things two weeks ago, Tuesday morning, sometime around 9am.
He also said: you need to learn all this cell phone repair stuff so we can get this thing going.
He also said: pack your clothes, we’re leaving in half an hour.

Two weeks and half an hour later, I’m at my aunt’s house in Santa Ana. I spend my days learning how to fix phones and talk to flustered customers, and from the hours of 9 am to 6 pm, life really isn’t so bad. Then I come home, plunk down in front of this laptop, check my mail twice, and then patiently wait for unconsciousness to overtake me.

Sometime between then and later, I fall asleep, and wake up to 8 am. Brush teeth, ten minute shower, drive to work.

Emptiness hits you pretty hard when you’re staring bleakly at your cell phone, hoping that it’ll light up and let you know that someone in the world wants to hear your voice. A person doesn’t deflate after hope swells them up a little. There’s just a bit more room for more void to seep in.

I’m not depressed, really. Just trying to wade through a lifetime of pretenses.

I bought a nice brown beanie.