Riddled with boredom and imminent threats of insanity, I reached out to my followers on Instagram this past Sunday for some show recommendations (and general interaction, let’s be honest. I needed it.) Pouring my energies into a new show is my highest form of escapism, and when I noticed several responses encouraging me to watch the hit Netflix traumedy, Dead to Me, I started it on the same night.
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At three years old, my biggest aspiration was to be a cashier. I honestly thought they ruled the world. I also thought they got to keep all the money they kept in their registers. Every time my mum and I would shop for groceries, I’d volunteer to be the bagger, and the employee who was to be the actual bagger would be so impressed that a 3-year-old was so kind and helpful and wanted to willingly bag the groceries. Little me was not being kind and helpful. Little me was striking power moves, hoping to someday bag my way to the “top,” to being a cashier and ruling the world.
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