I'm just a nurse.
Okay maybe barely a nurse. A graduate does count, you know. I spent almost two years of my life studying about the human body and pharmacology; I'm not so good with meds. And now I regret it.
Maybe it wasn't my fortune-telling grandmother's fault for insisting that my future lies here. She did say she saw me in white clothes and lots of money.
There was no shitting me on that one.
I am in white and I do have money--figuratively speaking--in this Louis Vuitton bag. Is that how you even spell it? Whatever. I had more important things to think of now, and staying alive is one of my top priorities as of now.
At least I've finished my Nursing Exam, and no I cannot tell you where and from what University I graduated from. So now I get to take it off from my list of priorities. Have I mentioned my name yet? Well I guess going by my first wouldn't hurt right?
Never mind. Maybe I shouldn't tell you. Lately, someone named me Robyn. They called it my code name. Which is much of an ew-ish name. Who would name someone Robyn anyways?
I remembered one day, I don't remember when but I'm pretty sure it happened sometime this week; I was on my way home from Nursing Review classes taking a detour to my favorite Starbucks junction. I ordered my usual latte and took a seat in a vacant armchair at the corner of a window and a wall, minding my own business reading wattpad on my iPad.