petty

I think it really comes down to how petty I feel being dissatisfied. I really want to, because I’ve been trained to since birth, give myself a pep talk that will get me up and swinging again. It’s a huge reflex, but I recoil at the thought of it. _I don’t want to get up!_ Seriously there’s no point. All these things are meant to make a person submissive. Pay your bills, barely touch your debt, fix your belongings. The rest of them seem quite entertained. Must be nice! Then again, clearly I don’t think it’s nice, I think it’s rather a cruel thing to act so happy and satisfied with SO LITTLE.

I want to do work that is valuable. I want to be paid like I’m doing that kind of work. I want to have a foreseeable day where I might be debt free. I want to be respected in my field, and have the accessories that come with it.

Too big, I’m always dreaming too damn big. This is fine. I have food, shelter, love of a good woman, I should be content right? I got a job in what I went to school for right out of college, this is what everyone is hoping for and hyping up? What a letdown. I really had myself believing this would somehow be better. It’s the same, the whole background noise to my life is the same; drone on, drone on, sell your youth and your freedom for temporary financial security.

Total tangent; I really want to try LSD, but not just that, a guided therapy session under LSD. They say you get to confront your demons. Sounds great, if it means I can deal with some of this shit. On the other hand, I have this chronic fear that if I go too far on drugs I’ll end up hallucinating my mind out, never being fit for any kind of work or use again.

Better living through chemistry, that’s the Boomer way.

Honestly; I’m just really tired. I have to be on call for another seven hours, and if that phone rings that means I have to do the most complicated fast procedure I’m trained on, under observation of my boss…. great…..  I’m really glad to be useful, but if that usefulness could somehow come during my waking hours…. it would be nicer. Granted, I’m putting off enough negative energy to end a friendship, as such no one wants any of what I am right now.

Ah, the fool I was, thinking that work could STAY meaningful. The fool I was, thinking I could ever make more than minimum payments. Ah the fool I am, acting like satisfying other people is ever going to help me or them. Ah, the poor befuddled fool I must be, staying in this honeypot deathtrap…. dying the slow death of cognitive decline and decay.