If I were a fictional character and if I were that smart, I’d probably be tyler durden. Well, I am dying to get out but I can’t create a project mayhem. I could probably choose not to go to sleep anymore and destroy pieces of the pattern bit by bit.
Today, I decided, would be one of the last days I’d hear the word "worthless”. It’s funny how people don’t notice how destructive they can be. For someone like me, they don’t make matters easier.
It’s ironic that they want me visible but too much presence sends them out in rage whenever. Think about this: how can the same person who sold my thesis as scrap tell me that in the future, without the degree I’m forced to struggle with, I’ll be a second class citizen, serving those who I once mocked and spoke nasty things about. Excuse me. Sometimes I’d like to answer back. If you allow me to do certain things my way, without a degree, I’d probably be better off.
It really annoys me. I can do a whole lot of things but they have this silent boycott every time I try to do other things. They complain in a subtle way that I should always be near available. To do what? Do they actually think I can build my future with a few measly thousands? i don't know what it is about me and the clan, but it really is constricting.
if it wasn't for something that i learned to love, i wouldn't be here.
god, i am so grouchy.
before i left convergys, i told my friends and my boss, that if doesn't work out, i'll be back in cvg after 6 months. well, if it means two jobs and school, no sleep, and better pay, sure. i'm going back to the corporate world. i mean, it's the same, i can't pursue painting in both scenarios. i'd rather have money and kick myself out of the house.
i just can't find absolution from coming back to be with the clan almost everyday. i feel helpless financially, hopeless with any personal growth, and tired of being treated like a kid. they hate it when i ask from them but they hate it when i help myself. what do i do?
it is really hard to be home. especially in my house.
okay, i'll just help myself and go back to what it used to be. anyway, i like being a workaholic. i don't get angry too much, i get too tired to even think about anything.
my teenage angst, extended.
yeah, instead of blowing up things, i'll settle for self-torment. and then, i'll be square, and forget all my friends and give up all my vices and get a small house, live with my dog, be a tramp and die alone.