Let's Not Meet Again

The Man With The Thick Accent

Before I get into the story, there's a few things you need to know. First, I am an artist and have always been very 'in my own world' as it were if I was thinking of a story or character or a picture I wanted to draw.

I'd walk into walls and forget anything anywhere and place items in weird places while I was thinking. To give you an idea the extent of this, my first place to look for anything I've lost is the fridge & freezer. I've found remotes, my cellphone, art equipment, anything really in there.

Second, I have always had a very negative view when it comes to alcohol or any other narcotics. I don't mean to shame anyone of you reading this with it, but it was always something I just generally regarded as pointless. However, if you find enjoyment in it, all the better to you. Third, I am a very asexual person, I never desire sex or have any interest in finding a mate, so flirting usually flies over my head. And finally, due to my childhood I have a mild case of anxiety disorder, which has lately been worse due to this event and escalated by other ones.

This particular story begins when I graduate from an upper secondary school for visual arts (Upper secondary is the type of high school in scandinavia). I had decent enough grades, my best being biology & english, and of course, art. I immediatelly looked for work after graduation, since I had graduated half a year late because of some health issues and the entrance exams for universities were already done by the time I graduated, so I had around one and a half years before even the possibility to apply for a university. I would send hundreds of applications to any place that would take me, and hardly ever got even invited for an interview. This took it's toll on me and I got depressed.

I'd hardly leave the house, and I stopped taking care of myself alltogether. I wouldn't shower, put on make up, brush my teeth, anything. I'd avoid mirrors and I felt as though I was a complete and utter failure, which was not made any better by my parents who pressured me with

"how many applications did you send today"

or

"you really need to get this job so you can start saving to move out".

This might sound mean, but they didn't mean it in a bad way, since I'd expressed the need to get my own flat for the past few years.

Not to mention my relationship with my parents at the time was very strained since my depression made me very irritable and angry, so I can't really blame them for pushing me to get out of the house. This continued for around half a year, until I finally got a job in a hypermarket around 8 miles away from the place I lived in.

Life really picked up from there, and I started to take care of myself once again. The people I worked with were all very nice people and I had no issues with anyone, though they were very "normal" so I'd get invited to get togethers or to have a pint after work etc. I always made an excuse why I couldn't go, and would play mmos or something instead at home. This might sound sad, but I enjoyed myself more like that.

Fast forward a year of working and I was accepted into my no. 1 choice University and due to this I cut my work hours to half, so I was only at work for 2-3 nights a week. The particular hypermarket chain I worked at had a yearly 'festival' week gimmick to boost sales, and this year we were handed scratch cards to sell during the cashing out process. Apparently, the chain had a contest within every location and the winning hypermarket would be given a 1000 e cash price for "employee refreshment" purposes (Booze).