Great. Just Great.
You may wonder how I got to this point, working for that man. Becoming what I most definitely would not want to be; his maid. I guess you could say the pressure of taking care of my people without hardly any support of my government is what made me break. Tossing my pride to the side just to survive. I needed help, as much as didn't want to admit it, from that blonde, blue-eyed male.
Granted he was having his own economic problems, having trouble taking care of his own, but when I showed up that night at his doorstep he hadn't kicked me away. Though I suspect he holds some resentment toward me, his sympathy out-weighed it. He accepted the challenge of helping me, though he would only pay a fraction of what his own workers got. A level above slave labor. Couldn't complain much though, at least it was something.
What I had noticed much more than I think most of the world realizes is his darker side. Everyone sees him as the ditzy, cheerful hero, but many times I saw the drastic difference of trying to come up with plans and become a lot more serious about things. In a way, he changed a bit from when I knew him a long time ago. Wars used to be fun for him. He had this gleam in his eye of youthful curiosity, wanting to learn and gain more. Now he seemed to be more caught up in government affairs, and creating a stable foundation of peace and prosperity. It seemed as though it only took both of those things away from him the more he tried.
One time, as I was cleaning his office, I found a closet full of records and important documents. It was bizarre as I went deeper and found more and more. I didn't want him to walk in and consider me some sort of spy, so I closed the door and pretended nothing happened. I couldn't help but wonder why so many government records were in his personal residence, but I figured he must have had a lot of work.
There was something that always seemed to cheer him up; food. Whether it be a bag of cheeseburgers from McDonalds or something I made at home, he really enjoyed it. He also loves my food, I've noticed. His face would light up like a puppy at the mention of tacos. I found it pretty funny, considering he grew up on such bland British food.
Thus are my observations during the duration of time I have spent in his household. Forgot to mention the number of times he invited that British man over, and the nights they snuck away upstairs for a 'siesta'. I'd usually retire to my room, crawl into bed and cover my head with a pillow to muffle out their cries of ecstasy. It was irritating. I hated it. But of course I had no place to complain.
I can't wait until the day I can get the hell out of here and back to my own country. I miss the culture and warm, sunny days. Mexico City will forever be greater than New York City. Case closed.