From the archives of the unpublished. A post from 08 May 2011. I worked at the office in 2011. Boy, some things never change. It’s like I could have written this very post TODAY and yet my feelings have not changed… not even a little bit.
I have 32 drafts left to go. Maybe little by little the things most personal to me, that I felt I could not publish in the moment, will slowly be released from the darkness.
I’ve been feeling so restless as of late. And bored. I definitely don’t get bored easily. So I’m just not sure how to react or what to do to stop feeling this. Basically every single day needs to be full of plans. And that’s not practical. I think doing things every single day is a cover for the emotional turmoil I feel about work. OH WORK. UGH. The job itself is whatever to me. I don’t care that I’m there 10 hours a day. First one in, last one out. That’s fine, it’s part of the job. Except I don’t feel I’m getting paid on par with the job description. I didn’t go to college to earn LESS than my boss’ housekeeper. Fuck man, that sort of thing infuriates me. I feel worn out going to work knowing that I’m working so hard and yet I can only barely make ends meet. What the hell you know. That’s not okay.
UGHHHGHHAHGAL I don’t even feel like talking about it anymore. I don’t feel like thinking about it anymore. It wears me out. And it puts me in the worst mood possible. This resentment is too much for me.
There’s a new concept in my life: “loose woman.”
I am not loose woman material.
But something needs to be done. Well I mean, does it really? Everyone’s life focus is about LOVE, finding the perfect person. And I mean I feel like I’m too… capricious for that. Maybe. Maybe not. I just want to TRAVEL, do things, make new friends, dance the night away. Oh dear lord I don’t even fucking know what I’m saying anymore. Love is like this ACHIEVEMENT everyone’s striving for, but I just have no … desire to set out and achieve that goal. But I also don’t want to be alone. Talking about this feels like a waste of my fucking time. And it makes me uncomfortable. It’s an area that’s very unfamiliar to me. AND… that’s all I can even bear to say.
(Though now I’m wondering if I’m not just feeling pressured to find love.)