Wildflower || j.jungkook

Day 3; khr

Jungkook didn't visit today. The dogs were continuously whining and nudging me, seeking affection, and probably wondering why he wasn't here. I did try to ignore the absence of the man, but it kept sneaking into my thoughts, since I had come to enjoy his company quite a bit.

I glanced at the clock.

4:30 PM

It was Friday today, so the shelter was closed early. No visitors, as usual. I heaved a heavy sigh as I closed and locked the main entrance. As I turned off the lights, I pushed open the door to my room in the back, next to the dogs' room. I plopped down onto my bed face first, landing on the soft mattress. A muffled scream left my mouth as I buried my face in my pillow. I flipped over so that I was laying on my back and stared at the ceiling.

"It's hopeless. I'll never find a home for them..." I thought, squeezing my eyes shut tightly. "Not in this state anyway. No budget for advertising, no time either."

It's true. At this point, I've had to work 24/7, whether it was taking care of this around the shelter from open to closed, working on art commissions for followers of my Instagram, or writing documents and reports for my college professors. Online classes were a pain, but I needed them to prepare for a future job (if I manage to get one) after Wildflower Shelter shuts down. My commissions barely were worth $80-100 per drawing, and that was far from enough to pay for everything I needed. I had to also run a part time job at a nearby cafe every Tuesday and Sunday, the days where Wildflower Shelter was closed. And even with that, the amount I got paid was quite low. I had nearly no free time, other than in a few hours in the morning when I pulled all-nighters. Which was quite often, honestly. At this point, the amount of all-nighters I had pulled were countless, since I had so much work. Trying to get my commissions out on time, still trying to produce art to post, trying to turn in homework and projects on time, doing huge loads of paperwork, and still trying to take care of seven dogs. But a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

"I can't keep this up. How am I going to handle all this...?"

I envied people who were already well off, to be honest. People whose life seemed so simple, where all they had to do was follow a daily routine, with rarely any changes. As if life for them was as simple as wake up, eat, work, eat, work some more, go home, eat, and sleep. And on their days off, they could go where ever they wanted, whenever they wanted. People who had their life already figured out, where what they wanted to do was clear and was a reasonable goal that they could accomplish. For me, it wasn't that simple. It wasn't an easy 'follow your heart and you'll get there' sort of lifestyle. It started that way when I founded Wilflower Shelter with my friend at the age of 17, however. But once our budget diminished and our customers left, she quit, right along with the other workers.

Tragic and pathetic, isn't it. I should have quit right along with her, but me and my stubborn ass decided to stay. And then I got attached to the dogs, which then ensued my current situation. I groaned as I hoisted myself off my bed and sat down in front of my desk.

"Time to work on commissions," I muttered to myself, taking a deep breath and setting up my drawing tablet. "After that, I have to finish at least half of what's left on my essay, then I have to put the dogs to sleep, eat something, or nothing at all, wash the dishes, do the laundry, and see if I can go to bed by at least 3 AM."

I mentally cried at the thought, but I clapped my hands a few times, prepared a cup of coffee to get me through the night with a caffeine rush, and started.

****

I threw down the towel as I finished washing the dishes. "Finally," I thought. "I'm free."

I took a hot shower to try and relieve some stress and changed into my pajamas. I jumped onto my bed again and let my whole body go limp as I felt myself sink into the blankets. I stole a glance at the clock just to check what time it was.

3:30 AM

A half later than what I would've liked. Whatever. Close enough. I placed my phone on my bedside cabinet, turned the lights off, snuggled into my bed of blankets and pillows, and tried to sleep. But of course, thanks to my previous caffeine rush, I had a lot of trouble sleeping. Eventually, I gave up on sleep, climbed out of bed, flicked the light switch for the second time, turning on the lights, which, by the way, nearly blinded me since my eyes were so adjusted to the dark.  Other than that, I sat down in front of my desk once more, spent another hour finishing my essay, and doodling random sketches until my eyelids grew heavy. I quickly took a glance at the clock, which read 4:30 AM. I hauled myself over to my bed and collapsed instantly, not even caring about my position. My body felt so weighed down and weak, I could barely lift my feet onto the bed.

With the lights left on, my computer on sleep mode, papers, pens and pencils scattered on my desk, a sketchbook still open to a blank page, my window still open, and my room still a mess, I sighed for what seemed like the millionth (probably way more) time this week. I was almost, ALMOST about to get up again and put some stuff back in order, but decided against it. And then without a care in the world, I closed my eyes and instantly drifted off to sleep.

(WhOOPS an I making her life too complicated tho?)