Lament the things that could have been
Last night, while I was reparing the back-to-school section, I had a flashback of sorts; not so much a vision, but a feeling. All the silly pencils, folders, and notebooks made me feel exposed and vulnerable again. I hated school, and with good reason. I was the one to intimidate and fuck with; everyone was out to devour me. Seeing all those stupid notebooks, with their bright and cheery overtones, just filled me with dread. I left the department and told my co-worker that I was going elsewhere. She cocked her head, aimed directly at me, and fired a scornful expression right towards my concscience. Either her aim was off that night, or I've just grown indifferent to my co-workers' opinions. I get away with a lot up at wal-mart; not sure how I do it, but a lot of the employees don't respect me because of it. They can cram it.
I don't know if I can resolve the issues I have with myself. Sometimes I feel inferior to everyone else on the planet, as if they've somehow grasped something I can't even put my finger on. One day, I hope to relocate somewhere quiet; some remote and faraway place in Alaska maybe. I'll severe all ties with this godforsaken city, and disappear. If I can live somewhere that's majestic, and retain my self-confidence and enthusiasm for longer than a few days at most, then I'll be set.
That is all
I don't know if I can resolve the issues I have with myself. Sometimes I feel inferior to everyone else on the planet, as if they've somehow grasped something I can't even put my finger on. One day, I hope to relocate somewhere quiet; some remote and faraway place in Alaska maybe. I'll severe all ties with this godforsaken city, and disappear. If I can live somewhere that's majestic, and retain my self-confidence and enthusiasm for longer than a few days at most, then I'll be set.
That is all