At times lately, I've hated all this bullshit. I hate what I do for a half-living, hate how I can't seem to escape it though because I've piled up too many obligations on top of that mistake (just like watching young neglected mothers add new babies to a bad relationship) and work history typecasts you into bad roles. I can't even go to work somedays, sitting in my truck, wondering whether I should even continue on with this numbing charade. But then for what? So some people cry and miss me or some lame ass shit like that, that I wouldn't even see? Fucking weak.
Honestly, I should value myself more than thinking stupid thangs like that, but I also should value myself more than to pile self-esteem unto myself by buying flashy bullshit, which to be fair is usually secondhand and not that expensive by regular people standards. I need to fucking simplify. I need more chickens and less full tanks of gas. I need less fucking electricity usage and should probably read a lot more, and not just more robot filter internet mindwashes (ha - like this).
Yeah yeah yeah, I should probably do a lot of things, but probably I'm just gonna fall asleep on the couch, then get up and go back to work, watching paint-stripping chemicals splash red burn marks on my forearms. Rinse, spin, repeat. Rinse, spin, repeat. No wonder I fucking contemplate unplugging the machine that I've ended up being sometimes.
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