by Erin Ajello
There are bags under my eyes now.
They break easily, and seem to be capable of holding little more than tears and disappointment.
(Apparently, my face shops at Stop and Shop.)
I gave up on trying to cover them with make-up.
It’s too much.
I cannot spend 20 minutes putting on a flawless face for 5 hours of work just to come home, spend 5 minutes wiping it off and moisturizing, and then another 20 in the shower.
I have finally decided that looking perfect is not worth the time or money invested in the effort.
When I arrive at work in neat clothes and pinned back hair, it is now with minimal make-up.
When I walk to class, my face wears only sunscreen.
I have decided that it is okay to let the world look at my face and know that I am tired.
I am absofuckinglutely exhausted, in fact.
And, maybe, that is not the worst thing to let people be aware of.
Maybe if the customers asking me to check for a sixth item in the back think that I am tired, they will believe me when I say that I have already checked for that very item several other times that very day.
Maybe if my professors can see that I have indeed been up all night studying, they will believe me when I tell them that I am spending hours upon hours working on their assignments.
Maybe if my parents can see that all I do is drive between work and class and back again, they will finally believe that I am trying to focus on the things they insisted were important.
I can only hope that my exhaustion will be considered credibility.
My word is apparently no longer good enough.
Yet this face somehow, someway, still counts as currency.
Only now, with a full time school schedule and two part jobs, the only thing I seem to be able to buy is pity.
