Here We Go Again
Dear World
I had my first actual "psychotic" episode at work the other day. I think my manager could subconsciously see it coming, and told everyone to go on break. I went out into the mall and screamed at things, and ranted about how meaningless my job and life are. I couldn't even contain it.
As a general rule, in those times, I tell myself to calm down and not freak people out, and can at least contain myself. This time I didn't have that option. Even while thinking, calmly, that I should stop. I didn't. And I won't.
I don't hide from it anymore. I just tell them.
It's like telling a child Santa isn't real. Well, we're adults now. Let's start facing the reality of things. But no, I am the heretic. Why is that guy such a downer? Why isn't he ever happy or satisfied?
Well, I am. I just have a different definition of it. Material wealth, intellectual superiority, being more physically attractive, etc, etc, etc.... It's so... Childish.
I don't even care anymore.
I want something real.
I want my Fiona.
I want my Zephrine.
I want my Shelly.
I DESERVE THIS.
A great man once said "You have to fight for respect and honour and prowess." I agree.
I deserve this. We embody the cosmos.
We deserve peace and happiness.
I will no longer allow you to justify these things Malachy. I will no longer allow them to compromise Ultima.
"Nothing you say can or will ever penetrate these walls I create."
I've noticed I control the universe. So... Come to me, my love. I can wait forever. 2 more years maybe. I am beyond madness. I need to be happy again. I'm getting there. I need to quit drinking coffee and drinking after work. TO struggle to deal with it. Selling my soul for a few dollars an hour.
I would honestly prefer being a prostitute. I'd feel better about myself.
Fuck you contact center. Data entry.
Sorry to insult you profession. But it's meaningless. Yes. A computer COULD do our jobs. And it could do it more effieciently. I am no moron.
I'm a fool. Why am I doing this to myself again? Money?
Yea. Money. For school. I don't NEEEED any of that shit!!! I need a fucking CORNER. All I've ever wanted is a stable working environment, to write, draw, and paint in. A little room, with a desk, and a proper door that closes and locks and everything. I feel denied.
I never had a proper door as a child. I never had privacy or my own place, to be calm and alone. Now I don't know where I belong and each day is an endless search. Forever walking.
Walking.
Walking.
I can't and won't continue doing this. I require and deserve much much much much more than what I get.
I demand stability. Nothing will ever compromise that.
Nothing.
This is getting pointless and ranty.
FUCK YOU GEORGE BUSH!
The End.
I had my first actual "psychotic" episode at work the other day. I think my manager could subconsciously see it coming, and told everyone to go on break. I went out into the mall and screamed at things, and ranted about how meaningless my job and life are. I couldn't even contain it.
As a general rule, in those times, I tell myself to calm down and not freak people out, and can at least contain myself. This time I didn't have that option. Even while thinking, calmly, that I should stop. I didn't. And I won't.
I don't hide from it anymore. I just tell them.
It's like telling a child Santa isn't real. Well, we're adults now. Let's start facing the reality of things. But no, I am the heretic. Why is that guy such a downer? Why isn't he ever happy or satisfied?
Well, I am. I just have a different definition of it. Material wealth, intellectual superiority, being more physically attractive, etc, etc, etc.... It's so... Childish.
I don't even care anymore.
I want something real.
I want my Fiona.
I want my Zephrine.
I want my Shelly.
I DESERVE THIS.
A great man once said "You have to fight for respect and honour and prowess." I agree.
I deserve this. We embody the cosmos.
We deserve peace and happiness.
I will no longer allow you to justify these things Malachy. I will no longer allow them to compromise Ultima.
"Nothing you say can or will ever penetrate these walls I create."
I've noticed I control the universe. So... Come to me, my love. I can wait forever. 2 more years maybe. I am beyond madness. I need to be happy again. I'm getting there. I need to quit drinking coffee and drinking after work. TO struggle to deal with it. Selling my soul for a few dollars an hour.
I would honestly prefer being a prostitute. I'd feel better about myself.
Fuck you contact center. Data entry.
Sorry to insult you profession. But it's meaningless. Yes. A computer COULD do our jobs. And it could do it more effieciently. I am no moron.
I'm a fool. Why am I doing this to myself again? Money?
Yea. Money. For school. I don't NEEEED any of that shit!!! I need a fucking CORNER. All I've ever wanted is a stable working environment, to write, draw, and paint in. A little room, with a desk, and a proper door that closes and locks and everything. I feel denied.
I never had a proper door as a child. I never had privacy or my own place, to be calm and alone. Now I don't know where I belong and each day is an endless search. Forever walking.
Walking.
Walking.
I can't and won't continue doing this. I require and deserve much much much much more than what I get.
I demand stability. Nothing will ever compromise that.
Nothing.
This is getting pointless and ranty.
FUCK YOU GEORGE BUSH!
The End.