The cracks in the concrete were becoming my only sign that I was on the correct street. Along with that familiar looking hot dog vendor that quizzically eyed me every morning when I passed him to head to my day job. The life I led was slowly turning into one long episode of déjà vu as my body simply went along with whatever my mind told it to do. I hated this job, but then again I loved this job. It was becoming the only thing I’ve ever known, even though I‘d done plenty more in my twenty-one years on Earth. However, all of my previous ventures were all but a faded memory barely clinging to the back of my mind. What I did now seriously beat delivering pizzas. Sure, I had encountered several pretty faces from time to time, and plenty of them had been willing to put out at the very sight of me, but none of them compared to the pretty face I got to see everyday at my current ‘job’–if you can call it that. Girls didn’t even see me the same way anymore. The unkempt look of my messy bronze hair was no longer sexy in their eyes. It was just plain dirty now, since my water was periodically shut off due to lack of payment. My eyes were consistently sunk in from lack of sleep, and I was always in desperate need of a fucking shave.

This job was monotonous, emotional, and draining, but I was addicted to it. I hadn’t been in it long. Only about a year at this point. It began too easy, though, as it only took one look, and I was hooked for life. I repeat the same actions day in and day out like I did when I was running pizzas, but the ending payoff of this job is far superior to anything else I’ve ever done. I used to say that I moved like a robot, but that comparison was never quite adequate as the rare sensations I experienced throughout the day made me feel crazy with life.

The apartment I live in is a one bedroom, and I don’t know how much longer I’ll be there. The manager has been on my ass for the past three months about back rent that I owe him.