|so pointless all of this...
||[Sep. 19th, 2003|09:12 pm]
I write this post, this evening, before having a cigarette, to pass some of the feelings I have off to no one, since no one will ever read this anyway. I guess I'm not up to par with my co-worker, even though i'm here from open to close (12pm - 2am &later) every day, and he's here 2 days a week. It's my fault that shit's not getting done outside the office, such as restocking snacks and whatnot, even though I never have time to go to the store and buy shit, because my co-worker can never watch the store for me. I haven't done laundry in 3 weeks, but I never have tim to do it because i'm always at the god damned store, watching it while my co-worker is off doing his own thing. My life is so bland I might die, I have no real companion, no one to confide in. I have nothing to call my own but the clothes off of my back. My money fades quicker than time itself. I still get sick of waking up. I still hate the sunlight of the morning. I still hate the cold look in everyone's eyes when I take a drag off of my cigarette. I hate the taste soda leaves in my mouth lately. I'm starting to think those thoughts they told me not to in therapy, but the only thing holding me back, is the fact that if I die, they win. So fuck that, I'm here to stay. Yes, this is a note of self-pity. I do not expect understanding or for someone to hold my hand and tell me it's ok. I'm venting, simple as that. If you don't like, don't read. Bitch about it if you like, I still won't give a damn.|