Walking home
The walk home on the Thursday night was equally as bad if not worse than the walk to work. Ten minutes from the tram stop to the flat, and I did think about getting down on the floor and dragging myself. (What I need is a skateboard).
I should have called J. or just got a bloody taxi, but as usual I thought I’d try to stick it out because I don’t like to cause a fuss. Oh no, I’m all right. I’ll be fine. That exact same aspect of my personality is the reason I’m still working at the same place, the reason I’m still being paid what I was two years ago. Well, no more. I’m resolved to learn lessons from this. I’m going to change my life.
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