My name is Ashley Markus. I am 26 years old. I live in some obscure place that nobody really visits as it's just too far off the main drag for anyone to care to visit. I don't blame them, really. There's nothing here. It's a dump. Half the people who live here are on welfare, and spend their days sitting at home, drinking their lives away, as if there was nothing else out there for them.
It disgusts me, really. Drinking, I mean. There is so much going on out there, and spending your life drinking away your sorrows is such a waste of time and potential. I'm not against alcohol, really. I have a drink or two with the guys every now and then. I just don't like the idea of using it as a tool to run away from your sorrows. I feel as if you have to face them dead on, when you can. Everyone has their talents and should cherish and embrase them, not throw them to the sidelines and ignore them like some neglected animal.
I still live with my parents in the home we've been living in since I was three years old. It's so hard to make a living these days what with the economy as it is. You end up feeling like a worthless sack of shit living at home. I'd really like to have my own space someday soon, though. Every chance I get, I squirrel a little money away, hoping to save enough to get out of this sorry excuse for a town someday.
You see, my parents don't understand me. Actually, I'm pretty sure that there is nobody out there who understands me completely, for that matter. But my parents are a special case.
My mother is always working. She is a waitress at the local corner family restaurant "Kirby's Diner". I never liked the place, but it pays the bills, I guess. Just the name of the joint. Reminds me too much of the round, pink, fluffy marshmallow character from that videogame series that used to be popular once upon a time. And the place has a habit of appearing to be so filthy, even with the constant parade of waitresses going around cleaning tables and mopping floors with the goal of eventually making the place shine like new. Thanks to this place, my mother is pretty much never home. If she were to miss even one day of work in that godforsaken place, we'd never have enough money to put food on the table, or so she says. Good ol' Kirby likes to skimp out on his wage increases. I always thought that was why dad had his job, to add to the income and pull our sad excuse of a family out of poverty and into that wonderful place full of average consumers. Instead, I think he likes to waste the majority of it on his gambling addictions and rent-a-whores. It's sad, really. I was kind of hoping to have a better father figure in my life as I got older.
It disgusts me, really. Drinking, I mean. There is so much going on out there, and spending your life drinking away your sorrows is such a waste of time and potential. I'm not against alcohol, really. I have a drink or two with the guys every now and then. I just don't like the idea of using it as a tool to run away from your sorrows. I feel as if you have to face them dead on, when you can. Everyone has their talents and should cherish and embrase them, not throw them to the sidelines and ignore them like some neglected animal.
I still live with my parents in the home we've been living in since I was three years old. It's so hard to make a living these days what with the economy as it is. You end up feeling like a worthless sack of shit living at home. I'd really like to have my own space someday soon, though. Every chance I get, I squirrel a little money away, hoping to save enough to get out of this sorry excuse for a town someday.
You see, my parents don't understand me. Actually, I'm pretty sure that there is nobody out there who understands me completely, for that matter. But my parents are a special case.
My mother is always working. She is a waitress at the local corner family restaurant "Kirby's Diner". I never liked the place, but it pays the bills, I guess. Just the name of the joint. Reminds me too much of the round, pink, fluffy marshmallow character from that videogame series that used to be popular once upon a time. And the place has a habit of appearing to be so filthy, even with the constant parade of waitresses going around cleaning tables and mopping floors with the goal of eventually making the place shine like new. Thanks to this place, my mother is pretty much never home. If she were to miss even one day of work in that godforsaken place, we'd never have enough money to put food on the table, or so she says. Good ol' Kirby likes to skimp out on his wage increases. I always thought that was why dad had his job, to add to the income and pull our sad excuse of a family out of poverty and into that wonderful place full of average consumers. Instead, I think he likes to waste the majority of it on his gambling addictions and rent-a-whores. It's sad, really. I was kind of hoping to have a better father figure in my life as I got older.
