Are you really living?

How many times in ones life do you question your existence?

For some, it could be a question that just never comes up. But for others, it can be a question that resurface itself at least once a week. Questioning where you came from, what you've become, if it's all really worth it and where you'll go in the end. Two of these questions are impossible to answer definitely, but the two others should be answered by some point in your life. Two out of four isn't bad, right? It's half. But... is a 50% if you look at it another way. And a 50% is failing.

Oh crap, Elizabeth. You're failing.

Welcome to the train of thought inside Elizabeth Sullivan's brain. It usually goes downhill pretty fast. But as most young adults these days who couldn't find a genuine grain of self confidence to save their lives, this train of thought is pretty normal. At least that's what she likes to tell herself. Her thoughts, her way of life - it's all normal. Sure it's not something you'd brag about, but there is always an explanation for it somewhere. Some justification that the sub-par life she lives now isn't something to be ashamed of. This twenty something year old had herself a job, not many people could say that, right? Granted, it was retail... but it was still a job. But it wasn't like she had no reason to be ashamed. Every reaction she got from an old friend or a member of her family was the same.

"Where are you working these days?" They'd ask with a bright eyed smile, clearly only asking so they can either measure themselves in comparison or simply to brag about what company they are currently working for.

"Uh... All-Mart." She'd reply, avoiding eye contact and hoping that maybe it sounded just a little better than unemployment.

"Oh! Neat!" Literally, was the best she could get out of most people. Some would tag on that they shopped there, but most of the time the conversation either abruptly ended or trailed off to the weather or something just as uninteresting.

All-Mart. It's easily explained. You ever watch one of those zombie movies, where some huge, wealthy pharmaceutical company puts on an act that they help the poor, feed the hungry and all that jazz while on the inside being a greedy, dark corporate machine that wants to destroy everything around it all for the sake of the dollar bill? Well, that's All-Mart. Now, you may ask - why work for a company so harmful? Well, let's be honest... you don't need to be a genius to get a job there. They will honestly, take anyone.

And unfortunately, this was the place Elizabeth spent the majority of her life these days. Everything was becoming a dizzy cycle, always repeating, never ending and rarely changing. Over a year had gone by in this place, and she hadn't moved forward in life. This was going to be her ticket to easy money, money for school, school for a real career. But no, there was always something that needed to be paid for, and not enough time. The realization that she was working hard every day, going nowhere was one that could easily send her into a panicked state - but like most things, she just tried not to think about it. Because thinking about difficult things sucks. It's much easier to think about things like flowers. Yeah...

... flowers are better. Better than a shit life.

---------- Post added at 07:21 PM ---------- Previous post was at 05:55 PM ----------

And at this moment, it was one of those moments. One of those moments where she'd rather be thinking about flowers. Or listening to music. Or chopping an apple. Literally anything would be better than being swirled around in this mess. Quarter past midnight, All-Mart was buzzing with over enthusiastic, over tired and over obnoxious customers who had just got off binging on turkey, alcohol and too much family contact. Oh yes, it was that magic night in retail. Where the clock struck twelve and the fairy tale was over, the nightmare beginning as unarmed (they should be armed) associates try and hand out hot ticket items like obscenely large flat screens and shiny new bikes. It was indeed Black Friday.

"Hey! Where can I find the seventy inch for four hundred?!" A middle aged woman yells in a demanding tone, hustling up to the defenseless Elizabeth who seems to be equipped with a pink backpack. "Oh.. uhm..." Looking around, she tried to make out the balloons in the air around her that said the product names on them. "Ah, right over there!" She pointed, seeming more like a frightened animal than a helpful employee. Wide eyes took in the stampede as she ducked into a taped off isle, grasping her backpack straps tightly. It wasn't often you'd see this tomboy with a pink backpack, but this was an emergency response kit. Not a girly backpack filled with bottles of water and band aids. No. This was far cooler. (At least that's what she told herself).

But unfortunately, the backpack didn't come with a shield and sword. Which is what she really wanted right now. And so the beginning of Black Friday had begun, and Elizabeth was surrounded by faceless customers - yelling, pushing, grunting. Another question every minute, another demand every second, the store was starting to spin and she was starting to sweat. Why was she here? She wasn't getting paid enough for this. Was it going to be like this all night? Her heart began to beat faster, and faster... and faster until---

"Retail's treating ya well, huh?" A strangely family voice said calmly behind her, somehow cutting through the chaos. As she turned around, she came face to face with a ghost from her past, a friend from high school who literally looked as though he hadn't changed a bit. Was she hallucinating? Had she passed out. Unsure how to assess the situation, she just stood and stared doe eyed and confused at the grimy punk before her. "What... you don't remember me?" He snorted, grinning as if he knew that was impossible - that he was unforgettable.

"Derek? Derek... Colt?" Elizabeth finally spoke out, still confused at what the hell he was doing here. Dressed to the nines, he was unmistakable. The shaggy short hair, a faded blue with dark roots. Clothes that he's had longer than they have known each other, holding on by safety pins and duct tape. Clearly pleased with her response, he wrapped his arms around her, giving her a big, aggressive hug. "Oof!" She let out, the wind knocked out of her. Even the smell of his jean jacket was familiar, it smelt like stale beer, skanky weed and dirty socks. The aroma sent her into a strange realm of nostalgia before he finally pulled away.

"But seriously dude, what the fuck are you doing here!?" He asked, flicking her blue and yellow name badge with a big grin on his face. "I work here. Wait no... why are you asking me that? I should be asking you what the hell you're doing here?!" (She censors herself at work, and frankly has cleaned up her language quite a bit since they used to talk.) Rubbing the tattoo on the side of his neck, he mulled about a reply until finally concluding, "I dunno... just looking for you I guess...." a little embarrassed of that answer, he looked around and picked up the nearest thing to him, which happened to be a squeaky red dog bone. "Oh, and to get one of these... yeah, see? It's pretty cool!"