I am the invited Uninvited.
Few here at the Filet De Sole mega-chain know much of my story. To the diners I'm just the busboy. My co-workers have their own worries and/or lives. To the corporation I'm just another cog.
It's obvious I should have meant more to myself somewhere along the line. Woe to the nonbeliever.
Corporate honchos are arriving tomorrow so it's all-hands-on-deck for the closed door afternoon meeting. As part of that, HR will want to discuss my career options. How do I tell them first I need a career?
As my heart sinks into darkest depths, I'll be informed of the "exciting opportunity" of being cross-trained as a dishwasher. From there, who knows? On to meal prep then one day maybe even fry cook.
One thing's for sure in life when you're on the wrong path: the abuse only piles higher.
It's been over twenty years since I went to film school. Art takes heart, and soul, and commitment. They don't tell you that until after you pay your tuition.
I still go to film festivals to be tortured by the life I ran away from. My own film dreams, of course, are a state secret. When I'm there, I'm the uninvited Invited.
I tried to manifest some money to get me out of this hell. The universe responded with a 14 cent check (literally). I guess you can only get out what you put in.
History will be made tomorrow. You heard it here first. Another part of me will die, another tear in heaven for the weeping angels. Only they write my true story.
On a side note, last Saturday, sometime in the eight o'clock hour I took a forbidden peek up from a table to see the sun break through the distant cloud formations. Had they known what was happening, the diners would have left their seats and crowded the large plate glass windows. It was a Portal Beam to the dream dimension. True, you can't stay there but any chance to visit is to be taken, like finding water in the desert. It's the only place where good things don't have to end and life never fails.
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