i find myself listening to the sounds around me and somehow drowning in their misery. the humming of my computer. the deep, constant sighs of the air conditioning (even when it’s fifty-something degrees out), the buzz of my disgusting fluorescent light.
no wonder people who work the usual 8 hours a day in an office are so fucking boring. it takes at least all weekend to clear your mind of the depressing white walls that can’t help but remind you of a mental intitution you would see on a sixty minutes special.
i miss smoking. i find myself so jealous of these people who get to leave two and three times a day to enjoy the fresh air and sunshine of the outside world. and yet somehow i just can’t justify inhaling toxins into my lungs to enjoy such a pleasure. oh well. not to mention, john and i found old cloves the other day and i smoked one on the way to work while he drove me. it was delicious as it sunk down my throat and into my lungs. hold it. let it out. it tickled and burned all at the same time. i felt myself relaxing, even in the early morning light and the rush to work.
and yet, four hours later (!) i could still smell the nastiness and my teeth felt like they were wearing sweaters. a feeling i happen to not miss at all.
anyways, regardless of how much a despise my job right now, it is not what defines me. i do not introduce myself as “rachel, the girl who works in the depressing atmosphere in a cubicle the size of my bathroom.”
i mean, come on – do we really need another debbie downer around?
it’s just interesting that i try so hard not to let things like work and stress affect me, and they do anyways. more than anything else in my life.
i worry and stress and freak out and i take it out on him. he doesn’t deserve that. i get upset about the little things he does that i wish he would do differently, even though i already knew he did them that way.
i cry and scream and beg myself to be in a different place. to be content and happy and hopeful. i don’t want to regret things.
i don’t want to wake up every morning wondering what in the hell i’m doing.
i don’t want to deal with the things that torment me every night when i fall asleep. i want to be done with it. and yet, there is no on/off switch that i have located yet… no button to turn off certain types of dreams, fears, worries… i can’t stop competing with people i’ll never know. jealous of what they have that i’ll never be able to call my own.
my eyes can produce tears quicker and saltier than anyone could ever imagine, just from the very miniscule thought of a time i didn’t even exist in. i think about the unfairness. the difference i want my own children to experience… and yet i know i’ll have no control over that, either.
sometimes things seem so repetitive. i have so missed writing about nothing at all… the things that run through my head so constantly and uncontrolled throughout the day. i’m wearing my steve madden mocs that i bought at ross for next to nothing. they’re so comfy but they keep coming untied, something that makes me want to tear them off my feet and throw them against a wall, or into oncoming traffic.
sometimes i wonder if i need to take an anger management class…