Work Junkie

I think I’m one of those people that constantly needs to work. To just do something. Not the type of work that makes you think or the type of work that requires you to be mentally there. The type of work that makes you shut your brain off and just do it. I haven’t worked since Saturday and I don’t work till Friday. I’m starting to feel weird. Like I’m missing something. I start over thinking things and noticing all the little details that normally bother me. Ever since getting a job not long ago I’ve noticed I’ve become more level headed. Maybe all that stressful energy was poured into my job. All that bizarre pent up anxiety dissipates when I work. It’s tiring and it’s a pain in the ass to work till 5 or 6 am, put just the act of putting a burger in those plastice things and making call in orders and driving across town to give some dude his wings makes my brain stop working. I’m not me when I work. I’m like a machine. Move here, put that here, type this, say that, count these. It’s all clockwork. When I’m not me, it’s all good. When I’m me, it’s all bad. Noticing all the little dots that aren’t supposed to be there, but are there because that’s how it actually is annoys me. I think I’m like my mom in that regard. She just shuts down and does her job. I remember one time my dad said he was called in by her job and they told him that she just broke down crying for no reason. This was before I was born. After that she was ok. Maybe she doesn’t like being her like how I don’t like being me. Being tired and worked makes you think less of all the little stuff around you. I remember hating the idea of being too distracted to see the world as it really is, shit. But now, being numb from distraction sounds nice. I missed my meds on the weekend. Three solid days of not taking anything when I just started to get good at that sort of thing. Maybe it’s that. I guess I’m nuts.