Quickwrite: Works Feels

Document
Cover Image

I hate my job I hate my job I hate my job. It's okay it's okay it's okay. My heart starts beating fast, sweat forms on my upper lip but I swat it away and stare at the black letters on my computer screen which ask me questions, ask me to do things, ask me to make sure other people are doing things...and I just don't give a shit anymore. My boss' voice cuts through my thoughts and he summons me into his office; I slowly peel myself off my chair and walk in, bracing myself for his incessant rambling. Lately it's been taking everything I have not to blow; I don't care about your kids and their grades or your wife and her furniture troubles or the front row seats you had for some washed up old timer's show this weekend. What the fuck do you want from me, MARK? Get to the point so I can go back to filling my brain with useless status updates and selfies of people I hate, to postpone the inevitable doing of stuff that needs to be done.


I can't be cooped up here all summer, not again, god please no, counting down the minutes until I can see and feel the sun on my skin, living for the weekends that pass too quickly, all to start the same stupid routine again. At least I'm getting laid on the regular, that helps with the mood swings.


I walk out of his office, imagine myself turning around and shouting I QUIT and running out the door. Wouldn't that be a nice ending to a grueling 9-5 life? But I can't I have nothing waiting for me on the other side, no one to throw money at me so I can sleep all day and dance all night. I am unhappy but I do nothing about it. Plagued by a laziness that weighs me down and pushes me to the ground. Plagued by the viciousness of time and how there never seems to be enough of it. Plagued by my own inability to manage it and prioritize. Stuck in time, not moving forward, backward, fucking anywhere.


I can't wait to leave, fly on that glorious plane, for the sky to swallow me whole and get me out of this cold, dark city. I feel the tears welling up but I wipe my eyes and click reply.


 

Created: Apr 08, 2014

Tags: quickwrite

whitenoiseredlips Document Media