It was already June 7th, and that was one more reminder to Brooklyn of how life felt like it had moved surprisingly fast over the past four months. She had found herself a part time day job at a restaurant, waiting tables, so maybe that was why it felt that way. She was busier than she had been used to over the winter, and being busy, and having more to do than working at night and sleeping all day made the days go by faster and faster. The increase in her work schedule meant that she was feeling a lot more tired as well, but it was a trade off that seemed worth it. The money made it worth it, and mentally, she was the kind of person who did better when they were doing things. It gave her less time to sit around and think about her life, which was a good thing, because thinking about her life always resulted in some strange mixture of feelings that always left her feeling unsettled. She would begin to loathe herself for ending up where she was. It wasn't like she was struggling, not financially, at least, but still, working as a stripper and a waitress wasn't something that you wanted to boast about, either. It wasn't something that she could do forever, and it wasn't something that she could ever put on a resume. When she got into this train of thought, she would always tell herself that she needed to go back to school. Pick a career path that could lead her into a stable life, like nursing or business management or even a lower level medical specialty, like a radiologic technician or something. At least if she had a degree or a licence in something, she would look good on paper. Somehow, she was convinced that having that would make her feel better about herself too, but still, that wasn't enough to get her to actually make a change in her life.
In her defense, after a traumatic transition into the real world, and after years of just knowing 'this' as her life, just waking up one morning and deciding to enroll in college wasn't something that would be as simple as that. Still, though, Brooklyn hated feeling like she was making up excuses for herself. She couldn't complain if she wasn't going to do anything to try and fix the problem, and that was why her disdain for herself was something that she kept to herself, lately. It was an internal conflict that she didn't want to have to explain to even her closest friends, because Brooklyn wasn't one who sought advice from anyone. It related back to how she hated feeling weak, and how she liked having all of the answers herself. It was silly; immature, even, but that was just how she was.
Just like the days were moving by quickly, Brooklyn was lucky that today's shift at work moved by quickly too. Five o'clock came sooner than she was expected, and as soon as the employees for the next shift showed up, she was clocked out, with dinner that she ordered from the kitchen already ready to go for her in a take out bag. The diner was less than a ten minute walk from her apartment building, so the bottom of the bag was still burning hot, even by the time that she made it up the five flights of stairs to her door. "Honey, I'm home!" she sang, her voice cheerful in a manner that was nearly mocking, as she knew it was out of character for her to be perky. "And I come bearing gifts. Chicken fingers for my five year old son, and lasagna for the neighborhood's favorite drug dealer," she announced, placing the takeout bag and her purse on the kitchen counter as she headed towards the bedroom that the boys shared and banged on the door twice. She really had no idea if either of them were even home, but she knew that even if they weren't, as long as she stuck the extra food in the fridge, it wouldn't take long after the boys got home for it to disappear. She wasn't always so generous, especially since while she did get the food discounted from the restaurant for working there, she didn't get it for free, but on days like today, where she had no reason to be in a bad mood, it seemed okay to be nice, for a change. Besides, even though the boys had been back in her apartment for a month or so, already, it still felt new and nice for things to be back to the old normal... even if they weren't fully back. "And you two bums better not still be asleep, or be drunk or high, when this bitch has been working her ass off all day. I will murder both of you if you come out here with bedhead, or reeking or weed or liquor!" she warned, giving one last bang to the door before returning to the kitchen.