the displaced & unemployed

[setting]

[typing on her Mac Book Air, imagining her death]

(Myra sits on the left side of the bed with her laptop. She begins to type. She rubs the left side of her chest. It hurts; it started in the neck is now on her left side. It's probably gas, pulled muscle, or stress. She has hot tea to soothe and hopes the pain is not fatal. Tomorrow she'll schedule a doctor's appointment).

Frustrated Myra: I'm 47-years old and recently unemployed (and February for the inquisitive, and fuckin 14th for the snobs.) My performance issue is the reason given. But I think it has more to do with the 4-days I took off. I had to take Tuesday to Friday for a funeral 900-miles away. I believe it was the antecedent ( I speak funny, pardon). As I said, I believe it was the antecedent, period.

Sweet Myra: You don't know me, but I am a cool-ass person, even too friendly to a fault, so my daughter says, but I am who I am. Unfortunately, this does not go well at times.

Frustrated Myra: As I stated before, my termination came the Monday after the funeral on February 14th, 2022, at 8:02 am as I prepared to make coffee, part of the weekly work schedule. I was like, "What?!"

Retrospect Myra: Maybe I should have fought harder, but in all honesty, I do not like being anywhere I am not wanted. It is desperate and embarrassing.

Frustrated Myra: Speaking of embarrassment, any company to terminate someone after a funeral screams apathy, and I should sue, not Myra. I let shit go.

What's my problem, right? Why don't I teach this company some manners? The fact of the matter is I don't care to an extent. Plans to move into a new apartment and begin again were dashed because of this situation, but do I want to work for a company as such? Hell, no! And this is the extent I am referencing when I say I don't care.

I care about being secure_ and losing this job has put a damper on my snug feelings. Truth be told, I have not felt secure in years.

Angry Myra: Moving on from disappointing, hurtful, and traumatic events like a relationship gone sour is a default mode, mainly when feeling stuck; and surrounded by toxic people who revel in watching failure and celebrating the down-trodden. They surround me, and these people are so-called family. They are disloyal, warp thinking, narcissistic, and wild gossips strutting as if it were a crown.

Disappointed Myra: I have been on a losing streak lately and alone. It feels like a curse while I watch the tower crumble before and around me. I don't care if I have anything to salvage. Give me new material to build something of longevity, substantial and safe.

Morose Myra: There is no one to save me, no more than anyone to save a hungry mother and her child crying for food somewhere right now. No one is coming to save us. Our ancestors and creator have abandoned us.

Middle Myra: I push forward because I am not suicidal, thank goodness, but I am slightly broken, worn, and stressed, hoping for newness. Resilience, comfort me, less I die in spirit. I know she is there, that happy Myra I used to know so well. For the moment, she is looking up from a hole in the middle of the earth, forsaken and waiting for something to happen because miracles and love elude her as if she were a murderer with bloody hands.

Pass the bottle, please.