Chapter 1
Today is the first day of the new year. Like every other year in my 25 years of life it feels no different than any other regular day. Every year it feels like something miraculous and new may happen. But it never does, and so the cycle continues.
I roll out of my queen sized bed which is currently only inhabited by my lonesome lovely self. I trudge my heavy feet down the hallway to my tiny bathroom that can probably only fit two people at a time. The reflection that stares back at me in the mirror is somber looking. Sad dark eyes look back with bags decorating them. I force a smile as I try to make myself look a little more alive, and it would definitely work if I wasn’t living in my own head. After all, it’s rather simple to fool the rest of the world into believing you’re happy. It’s impossible to fool yourself. I strip out of my over-worn pyjama shirt that has a large hole near the neck. Probably from the many times I’ve tried to force my head through it’s unbelievably small neck hole.
I step into my two-in-one bathtub-shower which has mould growing on the edges . I turn on the water, letting it become steaming hot before stepping under it. I sigh, showers truly are the best part of my day. In there I feel like I am completely stripped back to my true self, standing there alone with my thoughts. I let my mind wander as I wash my hair with my honey scented shampoo which smells heavenly. I snicker to myself as I recall the hour long argument I had had with Maya about which shampoo smell was the best. She argued it was lavender, that girl had no idea what she was talking about. Unfortunately finished with the favourite part of my day I step out onto my once white rug and dry my feet. I each for my towel to dry myself and head back to my bedroom. I look into my wardrobe to grab my freshly washed and ironed nurse’s outfit. It may be the first day of the year but hospitals don’t have days off, meaning neither do I. I slip on my shoes and coat and mentally prepare myself to step out into the cold and windy streets of New York City in January. As I grab my handbag on my way out I make sure I have my keys and most importantly my subway card, and head out the door.
I finally step out of my dingy apartment complex that looks like it’s tilting more and more to the side as the days go by. I speed walk to the subway station as I shield myself from the harsh wind. This is when I completely mentally check out, used to the formality of it all. Walk down the stairs, turn right, swipe my card, go down the hallway, go to the left, wait for the subway, get on, and wait. But for the first time in years I should have been paying attention.
