melle-belle's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'm trying to figure out how to save my life. I don't think I'm being dramatic about it either. I work. I bring home money. I spend the money at restaurants, because I am too tired to cook. I spend the money on clothes to wear to work, because I have to fit in and look like them. I spend the money on skin care to try to remedy my stress-induced breakouts. I spend the money on the gym membership, because the hamster on a wheel metaphor was not quite clear enough otherwise. I spend the money on anything and everything in completely unnecessary purchases made in frenzied attempts to create satisfaction and dull all other feelings of stress, anxiety and depression. I'm tired of taking their fucking money. I'm tired of sitting in a fucking office. I'm tired of sitting in front of a computer. I'm tired of dreading going back to work beginning at about noon on Saturday. I'm tired of being patronized on a daily basis. I'm tired of being asked to "bullet-point" every thought I ever have. I don't know what to do instead. I almost feel too exhausted to justify a career change to any prospective employer. Just set me to a task, pay enough to barely feed myself and keep things afloat debt wise (oh, the debt!), and for fuck's sake just let me be. How did it ever get to such a point of inauthenticity where I have allowed a job to force me into playacting my entire life? 3:35 p.m. - 2011-03-26 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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