waiting room

As I walked back to Connie from the shop this evening I found myself deep in thought praying. If you won't send me a job at least send me a sign. Just point me in a direction. I think I'm hiding it quite well but I can feel a twist of anxiety the same way a girl will wring her wet hair out, getting tighter and tighter inside. I told myself I wouldn't worry this early on but I am. Jones is unbelievably supportive. In fact he's the only one who isn't getting on my back. I think I'm stressing because time is flying by faster than it's ever done before. If this was just another summer holiday it would be over next week. But it's not a holiday, its a stand-by period. Time is running past me and nothing is changing, nothing is happening. I feel a little bit like I'm in a waiting room holding my ticket but the receptionist calling the numbers out has lost and forgotten mine. How long am I going to sit here until someone notices me? I wish I was 19 again. 19 felt like a great age when I met Jones and my life started getting interesting but I was young enough to make mistakes and still had time to work out what was coming next. At 21 it's a completely different story. Just 2 years changes the outlook on life and the way people look at you. I feel very much under pressure. I know for certain that I do not want to reach 22 and still not have my own place to live. I will hate myself if that happens. Please God don't let that happen. I've done what I promised I would do when I was 11. I went to college, I went to Uni, I got a degree, I've almost published my first book...just give me the one thing I've wanted for the last ten years, I want to get out of these four walls. To do that I need a job. Come on. Just give me a break.