Today, for whatever reason, there was a severe lack of mail to be delivered at work. I was able to get in at 8:45, get my mail sorted and deliver it by 12:00. That is including my 3 (or 4) obligatory “lazy breaks” I am always prone to take.
I went out for lunch and after that and up until now I have been at my office. I did a little work on someone’s phone, but mostly I have been cleaning and rearranging things around in it. I finally got my computer up on its desk and set up the clock I bought months ago. I started organizing parts and I am sure before I leave today I will begin working on inventory logs so I know what I need to do to keep up on my parts orders.
I know, it sounds so exciting. Really the point I am trying to make isn’t in what I am accomplishing, merely that I have the slightest of drives to try to accomplish something.
I have spent the last few months in a vacuous hole of depression and non-motivation. I take the same pills I have taken for months and find they have started to do nothing other than stave off the withdrawal symptoms I feel when I go two or more days without them.
I do the same job every day and without anything changing. I have started to go into work later and later every day, knowing that no one cares how late I start or finish, so long as the job gets done.
A lot of people have expressed how much I should enjoy that fact, but really it is something that really bothers me. Try living every day giving people things that they don’t want and taking stress from your superiors, when all you do is hand someone something and say, “Here, you throw this out.”
I’ve taken to chain-smoking while I work, and then coming home and (most nights) sitting down on the couch/porch/bed watching Netflix and drinking between half and all of a 26oz bottle of vodka. The next morning, wake up and do it all again, only this time I am still a little drunk, or I am really hung over.
I know that we are supposed to grow up and be adults. Part of that is coming to terms with the fact that most people will live every year after their 20th birthday working a monotonous job and paying of massive amounts of debt from the material things they buy on credit so that they feel like they have something to show for their hard work. I hate it, but I understand it.
Life is damn near literally all about self-fulfillment. You’ll never get what you want from life unless you take it, unless you make life your bitch.
So here I am, 500 words in and still without a point. Oh well, I guess I just had a desire to write something for the first time in months.
It’s not about what I wrote, it’s that I felt compelled to.