Personal Narrative: A Day At The Office

I’m so sick of sitting in my bubblegum-butt colored living room. It seemed like an awesome decision at the time to paint the hideously textured box I live in for the sake of my “totally unique blogging atmosphere.” Jokes, Melanie, you got jokes. It was a great idea at least until I became a super uninspired shut in, who’s seen two Christmas, and three Halloween specials of The Office in the same week. I need to get out of here. The smell of warm vanilla has left me completely “nose blind,” as the febreeze man would call it. I sit here every day, with warm hands from peppermint tea, and a cold heart from Jacob Pusheen. (More like Jacob “Pusheen” the limits of my emotions.) Being twenty three is hard, and it’s even harder when you have your …show more content…
His jawline looks like it could cut glass. How could I be expected to have a normal human interaction in this situation? “Yeah, actually, I live about ten minutes from here, but I’m not really looking for anything like that tonight.” Oh, god. He thinks I’m a prostitute, I’m pretty sure. I’m not totally sure, but I’m like one hundred thousand percent sure. “I’m not a hooker.” That was one doozy of a line. I think we’re off to a great start. His laugh is deep and booming and his sea foam green eyes that light up along with it. I would pay like forty bucks to have green eyes. “I didn’t think you were any kind of lady of the night.” I can see that he has some tattoos. I see a mermaid, and a pirate ship. It’s a swashbuckling scene on his forearm, I’m sure. I’m no stranger to rejection, and I assume that after my pitiful display of social skills, and bags under my eyes that could carry a week’s worth of luggage, that I should be on my way out. I do not belong in a place like this, speaking to a man with looks like these. I’m hoping that I can wiggle my way away from the table without notice. “Where are you headed?” He’s actually asking? “Oh, I’m just gonna head out. I have a really important