Every day, I feel a little more unfulfilled by what I’ve spent my time doing: Working, eating, sleeping.
I think it’s just another cycle in the life of an un-medicated manic depressive, but it’s hard to rationalize those kinds of things away, because they are a part of what you feel about everything that you come into contact with. I’d like to have that kind of confidence I used to wear on my sleeve, and flirt with girls, and forcefully make people uncomfortable when I realize they’re idiotic… But something about living here makes me adopt my persona. Something about working at a job I loathe makes me adopt my persona.
It feels like it’s what I have to do to get through this part of my life. I need to turn my brain off for as long as possible, let time warp around me until it’s a year later and I have money saved. But, I won’t have nearly enough money saved to justify a year’s worth of shitty, unrelenting, unappreciated work at nine dollars per hour. I never thought I would work for that amount ever again in my life.
But, really, I’m not the kind of person I used to be. I have an ugly soul, and ugly personality, and an ugly heart. I am nothing more than a borderline, living and breathing and always distancing myself away from a breaking point. So, I will never really get the satisfaction of being myself in this situation, unless I do reach a point, and start to break apart and lash out against such a shitty, depressing landscape.