Questionable Morals and Breached Contracts

Chapter 1: Millie

When picturing how my life will turn out, it's always very different. Each day I have a different epiphany and change my entire mind of thinking.
On Sunday I see myself being the ultimate house wife with all my babies and a loving husband.. But on Wednesday I see myself taking over the fucking world and being the next Jeff Bezos or Rhys Braun. Both self made billionaires whose names are known globally for being the creators or owners of elite businesses.
Then on Friday I don't even see myself lasting till the end of the year. I am shocked at how far I have come in so little time. Contemplating your future and the endless possibilities can cause you to either get beyond excited and think of the potential.. or freak the fuck out and have a panic attack in the middle of a night club.

I was having the later.

As the Friday night lights illuminate London, I find myself celebrating a friend's birthday at 'The Prince.' Amidst sipping cucumber and elderflower cocktails, an unexpected wave of panic washes over me. At almost 27, I grapple with a sense of stagnation, contemplating my current life trajectory. Here I am, still residing with my parents, grappling with financial constraints that make even a decent meal deal at Marks and Spencer seem like a luxury. The reassurances that I'm still young and have ample time ahead only serve as a fleeting comfort in the midst of my concerns.

WELL, I just am.
I'm a overthinking, constantly worrying ball of mess.

Rebecca, resembling a misplaced wanderer in the smoking area, finally locks eyes with me. "THERE YOU ARE, MILS! YOU HAD ME WORRIED FOR HALF AN HOUR. WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?" I swiftly gulp down my glass of government juice (aka basic tap water, as I've exhausted my budget for the week on this night out). As I meet Rebecca's concerned gaze, a sense of solace washes over me. In a crowd of forty, she dedicated moments of her evening worrying about my well-being, hoping I hadn't fallen victim to some nefarious fate, abducted and whisked away in the back of a stranger's car.

"I'm sorry," I begin to say as Rebecca settles onto the cigarette-strewn floor amidst the stumbling crowd. "I was fine for a moment, and then it's like I hit... a..."

"THE WALL," Rebecca interjects, miming a barrier in front of her face, pretending to be trapped behind it. Our friendship of five years feels like a lifetime, even though Rebecca, five years my senior, and I occasionally share moments of existential pondering about our respective life paths. These reflections can be a tad egotistical on my part, considering we navigate similar boats. We initially crossed paths at work, and the instant Rebecca, or 'Becs' for short, strolled into the office, I sensed a lasting connection. The realization of how deep our friendship runs hit me when we started bonding over our shared tastes in music, food, movies, TV, books—you name it, we clicked. Every concert we attend, we ensure we snag the best damn tickets and revel in laughter throughout. Last year, we caught Harry Styles thrice, and while his ticket prices did stretch our budgets, the experiences were undeniably worth it.

Becs and I even earned the coveted 'Best Female Duo' award at our office Christmas Party, a testament to our inseparability that everyone in the office acknowledges.

I like that.
When either of us is on leave from work, it's as if we've misplaced our essential limb.

"Yes, Becs... The wall... I'm sorry for unleashing this existential crisis at 10:49 pm on a Friday... I just... WHAT AM I DOING?" I exclaim, my voice lost in the chaos of the smoking area where everyone else is too intoxicated to notice our floor-bound presence, let alone register the chest-thumping screams about our uncertain futures.

"You do realize, M&M, that there are millions and millions of people in the world thinking the same thing... We aren't alone in this. I bet there are at least over 100 people downstairs pondering, 'What the hell am I doing with myself?'" Becs responds with motivational conviction.