2009-06-08 / 3:41 p.m.

"I'd like to make a claim."

"Have you ever made a claim here before?"

"No, I haven't."

"And you've never had a job before?"

She peers at me from over her thickly rimmed glasses, and I can feel my face flushing, illuminating. My body trying to say 'don't look at me' but all a glowing red face ever seems to accomplish is a 'look at me motherfuckers!' There are inconsistencies and gaps in the things I've done, my story, and how I've kept myself occupied.

"...No."

I've stressed myself to the core since I finished school over three years ago, and I've worked, but it's never been enough. I haven't paid taxes, I've always managed to be a little bit on the side for whatever person, and so officially and legally, it leaves me with nothing, nothing at all.

"And what did you do in that time between when you finished school and when you started in college, that whole year?"

I think to tell her that I was sick, to give an excuse, but she's doing her job, and such excuses aren't long lived in her eyes. She wouldn't understand.

"Nothing. Nothing at all."