I have worked up a great anger toward my job. A slow and steady boil of hatred toward the overcompenstation that I am being shoveled and those whom have shoveled it.

I am good and pissed off.

I want to remind those in positions of authority that the spokes are the support for the wheel and when they break, the wheel is in risk of collapse.

Based on what's going on, a whole bunch of spokes are collapsing, me included.

Today I started fantasizing about getting injured while at my job. Like falling down a flight of stairs and breaking my ankle. How the pain and discomfort were appealing to me because they meant time off and time to sleep with pay. I even, at one point, considered the possible consequence of spinal injury that may come with the fall and decided that life in a wheelchair may be worth not working!

This is bad, people. This is very bad.

I'm all about being a team player. Getting the work done. Putting in the time to make it the best. But there's only so much we, as people, can do. I may be efficient, but I can't complete the workload of 4 people. I'm sorry, I can't.

I'm not superhuman. Superhero's are things of comic books. I already exceed expectations. I cannot fly. I never will. I understand reality, we have an arrangement. I don't question it, and it lets me continue to co-exist in it's plane.

I'm tired. My head hurts. I need to sleep. I need to get laid. I need a drink. I need a smoke. I need to get the fuck out of this area that I spend too much time in as it is.

I want to be alone...with someone special.

There you have it.

previous next