Surviving on Your Own

Driving Patience

If I had known that taking over my father's business was going to be the most redundant, boring job ever, I would have left it to my sisters. This fucking job drives on my patience, and I have a lot of patience. It's a damn virtue, right? But all the meetings, bickering, ass-kissing, and endless paperwork makes me want to rip my hair out and scream at the top of my lungs. Obviously, it makes me a much more cynical and irritated person.

I guess apart of me misses the battles. Don't get me wrong, I don't miss the killing. The adrenaline, the rush, is what I crave. I love this peace, it warms my heart. I'm just not satisfied with my life in it, yet. Ha, I can hear my father's voice telling me I'm not a true pacifist. And he's right, I never was. I felt the need to fight, and did so. Even when it hurt. And then the Zero System almost consumed me. I killed Trowa, or so I thought. Hmm, I wonder how he is. How they all are. I hope they're happier than me.

The door to my office opens and my secretary comes in, "Mister Winner, your three o'clock meeting in room 203 on floor 7 is about to commence."

"Thank you, Denise. I'll be there in just a moment."

She closes the door as I sign out of my online poker game. There goes twenty-five thousand bucks I'll never see again. Oh well, I can afford it anyways.