Hello 2012, I can't believe you're already 50% gone:
January: High hopes for landing a new job.
February: Outlook on the job front not looking good.
March: Utter dispair on the lack of work opportunities.
April: Get a boost of confidence & lie through my teeth
May: Land a well paying job.
June: Become deflated by the quickness to which I've fallen in to routine.
I deactivated my facebook account a day ago, despite my knowing I'll be back just like everyone else.
I just needed to stop pretending I care.
I get paid to pretend, paid to sell, paid to listen.
I wear these masks, a different one for every situation, for every social circle, for every website I frequent.
I'm losing sight of my true face.
With the openness I've adopted to opportunities, I've sacrificed comfort willingly. The only hindrance in this is my discomfort with comfort.
In some ways, I've always rebelled against the notion of mundane routine. It's why every job I've ever had I slowly start calling out, showing up late or not showing up at all, just to rebel against the daily grind.
EVERYONE, STOP THE PRESSES! ALICE WANTS OUT AGAIN?!?!
It's not a surprise, not even a bit.
A part of me wants to excel, to be cut throat & work my way up so I can make money.
The other part of me wants to set my wallet and credit cards on fire, walk a millions miles & board a bus or train going anywhere.
Anywhere but here.
I've yet to find an outlet for the restlessness in my soul. I lay at night, so aware of my beating heart it hurts.
That's a bold faced lie, there is an outlet, one I've been running from. A slow sad run, more of a walk where I find myself looking over my shoulder often, thinking, maybe I should stop...
I don't.
I can't.
I won't.
I've got some strange form of socially acceptable chains tied to my hands and feet, pulling me forward.
I can't seem to stop looking at the sky lately, I've even considered the the notion that the clouds are conspiring against me.
Frustration Nation, Population: Moi
Procrastination, sexualization, hyperventilation, mensturation, dehydration, consideration, constipation, sensation, migration, a plethora of nations, all of which I call home.
The united states of Alice, with life, liberty and the persute of stimulation.
I should just try that thing already, find a higherplane of mental awareness.
Scream yes.
Whisper no.
Stay silent.
January: High hopes for landing a new job.
February: Outlook on the job front not looking good.
March: Utter dispair on the lack of work opportunities.
April: Get a boost of confidence & lie through my teeth
May: Land a well paying job.
June: Become deflated by the quickness to which I've fallen in to routine.
I deactivated my facebook account a day ago, despite my knowing I'll be back just like everyone else.
I just needed to stop pretending I care.
I get paid to pretend, paid to sell, paid to listen.
I wear these masks, a different one for every situation, for every social circle, for every website I frequent.
I'm losing sight of my true face.
With the openness I've adopted to opportunities, I've sacrificed comfort willingly. The only hindrance in this is my discomfort with comfort.
In some ways, I've always rebelled against the notion of mundane routine. It's why every job I've ever had I slowly start calling out, showing up late or not showing up at all, just to rebel against the daily grind.
EVERYONE, STOP THE PRESSES! ALICE WANTS OUT AGAIN?!?!
It's not a surprise, not even a bit.
A part of me wants to excel, to be cut throat & work my way up so I can make money.
The other part of me wants to set my wallet and credit cards on fire, walk a millions miles & board a bus or train going anywhere.
Anywhere but here.
I've yet to find an outlet for the restlessness in my soul. I lay at night, so aware of my beating heart it hurts.
That's a bold faced lie, there is an outlet, one I've been running from. A slow sad run, more of a walk where I find myself looking over my shoulder often, thinking, maybe I should stop...
I don't.
I can't.
I won't.
I've got some strange form of socially acceptable chains tied to my hands and feet, pulling me forward.
I can't seem to stop looking at the sky lately, I've even considered the the notion that the clouds are conspiring against me.
Frustration Nation, Population: Moi
Procrastination, sexualization, hyperventilation, mensturation, dehydration, consideration, constipation, sensation, migration, a plethora of nations, all of which I call home.
The united states of Alice, with life, liberty and the persute of stimulation.
I should just try that thing already, find a higherplane of mental awareness.
Scream yes.
Whisper no.
Stay silent.
