I’ve put on my I’m-so-depressed sneakers and worn a pair of my feeling-down set of jeans for the God-knows time since I moved to this department. You know that I don’t respect jeans and sneakers for work, don’t you? Having said that, I’m not into the so-made-up look as well. You know that I’m a feminine minimalist, don’t you? Gosh, how I hate Lebanese for ruining the Arabs’ sense of fashion and changing them into clowns, rather, whores. Anyhow, it’s about my Syrian, not Lebanese, boss with an American passport with a monthly paycheck worth of all of the department’s staff together. I heard that he received 80000 Saudi Riyals six years ago, God knows, how much he gets now. Anyways, it was not about his salary, you know, it’s about how miserable I’m at this department.
Yesterday, I got a compliment on my I’m-so-depressed sneakers and feeling-down pair of jeans from Mercy. You know her, the tomboy from ORA? I sarcastically replied that I'm getting inspired by your sense of fashion. Everybody laughed at this joke including Mercy. Oh dear, I should stop talking about it, I know.
This is part of a letter that I sent to Omar, my imaginary soulmate.
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