29 Days
Not dead. See.
It's been Twenty Nine days since I started working in the hospital as part of Central Supply. I've been assigned to Central Supply's equipment and it seems to be a sort of Permanent position for me there. No one else wants to do the job and I'm more then willing as it keeps me away from the rest of the people within the storeroom, at least for most of the time. It's had tons of ups and downs, from being over swamped with work, to being asked to do things because of laziness or just plain crap, sometimes literally. I've settled into a mindless routine which is both a good and bad thing, my mind constantly reruns songs through my head to keep me from going berserk and the general stupidity amongst the work keeps me returning to anger. Somehow I'm still alive and not covered in fresh blood (I've already cleaned up dry blood, numerously). I've passed by and felt death's presence multiple times as I wandered the halls with sometimes the overbearing sense of grief. I may not care for humanity, but part of me still is empathic and forces me to act with a mask of compassion. Most of the time it just draws on me, but nothing mentally, all my drain is upon the physical. Everyday is the same routine and my body is handling it the only way it can, through exhaustion. I'm not even sure how long I'll be here, but I'm still grateful for work, it brings in money and money equals survivability and stuff.
One month though. It's practically been a month and I still rather stand outside of the circle within that place, not get close and continue with my facade of a caring if slightly apathetic individual. I think the biggest thing I dislike about my work is, straight up without a doubt, the scrub pants. Those things are the worst fucking piece of clothing ever. One damn pocket on the outside AND on the INSIDE of the pants. That's it, both over your butt cheeks. They're drawstring pants that can barely stay on. I find them to worst article of clothing EVER. I mean, damnit! What's the deal with them?! The Shirt, I can enjoy though, I'll live with the scrub shirt, the pants, fuck'em. I want my pockets back.
From there... well there isn't really anything else. All there is, is continued walking about in a daze as if I'm being chased. It's just right now living day by day. My thoughts though through the static of music within my mind and the infinite stories the mill about, my mind constantly filters to a certain someone. I constantly feel bad as I continuously lack the time to go on and simply talk, to just interact despite my strong feelings. It makes me feel worse emotionally and it constantly piles up higher and higher. There isn't much I can do, which makes me feel sadder. Will I get an answer though? This certain someone knows the "Magic Spell" for me though. So... until then, I'll continue to wait, ever patient.
Enough of that, Avatar. Classic story retold, simple at that. Think Ferngully with Guns and more Death or read a history book about America's discovery. Only thing Avatar had though was it was damn impressive looking. That's done.
Finally... well that's all. I finally did it, a proper update after so long, but somehow... I still feel slightly empty...
It's been Twenty Nine days since I started working in the hospital as part of Central Supply. I've been assigned to Central Supply's equipment and it seems to be a sort of Permanent position for me there. No one else wants to do the job and I'm more then willing as it keeps me away from the rest of the people within the storeroom, at least for most of the time. It's had tons of ups and downs, from being over swamped with work, to being asked to do things because of laziness or just plain crap, sometimes literally. I've settled into a mindless routine which is both a good and bad thing, my mind constantly reruns songs through my head to keep me from going berserk and the general stupidity amongst the work keeps me returning to anger. Somehow I'm still alive and not covered in fresh blood (I've already cleaned up dry blood, numerously). I've passed by and felt death's presence multiple times as I wandered the halls with sometimes the overbearing sense of grief. I may not care for humanity, but part of me still is empathic and forces me to act with a mask of compassion. Most of the time it just draws on me, but nothing mentally, all my drain is upon the physical. Everyday is the same routine and my body is handling it the only way it can, through exhaustion. I'm not even sure how long I'll be here, but I'm still grateful for work, it brings in money and money equals survivability and stuff.
One month though. It's practically been a month and I still rather stand outside of the circle within that place, not get close and continue with my facade of a caring if slightly apathetic individual. I think the biggest thing I dislike about my work is, straight up without a doubt, the scrub pants. Those things are the worst fucking piece of clothing ever. One damn pocket on the outside AND on the INSIDE of the pants. That's it, both over your butt cheeks. They're drawstring pants that can barely stay on. I find them to worst article of clothing EVER. I mean, damnit! What's the deal with them?! The Shirt, I can enjoy though, I'll live with the scrub shirt, the pants, fuck'em. I want my pockets back.
From there... well there isn't really anything else. All there is, is continued walking about in a daze as if I'm being chased. It's just right now living day by day. My thoughts though through the static of music within my mind and the infinite stories the mill about, my mind constantly filters to a certain someone. I constantly feel bad as I continuously lack the time to go on and simply talk, to just interact despite my strong feelings. It makes me feel worse emotionally and it constantly piles up higher and higher. There isn't much I can do, which makes me feel sadder. Will I get an answer though? This certain someone knows the "Magic Spell" for me though. So... until then, I'll continue to wait, ever patient.
Enough of that, Avatar. Classic story retold, simple at that. Think Ferngully with Guns and more Death or read a history book about America's discovery. Only thing Avatar had though was it was damn impressive looking. That's done.
Finally... well that's all. I finally did it, a proper update after so long, but somehow... I still feel slightly empty...