Thursday
Apr201995

« Hatemail »

Every day at work I joke,
I toil, I strain.
I cry.
I want to scream.
Can't tell who or what or how or why.
Don't know why I'm there.

I said it was because productivity
is better than laziness.
But at the expense of my own sanity
and peace of mind?

And then again...
laziness?
By whose definition?
The same month
when I was away from work,
I played music.
I wrote songs.
I recorded music.
I studied music.
Guitar and piano.
I made two new friends,
and met more.
I bought stuff.
I saw my girlfriend,
(The most beautiful woman in the world to me at this time. We marked eight months together.) 
I saw a movie.
I saw my brother.
I saw my ex-singer's band.

But still, I need to work at a place
that leaves me raw like a nerve ending
ready to jump at the touch?
For five and a half fucking dollars an hour?

Of course my life is worth that much.
I'd rather be a postal worker.
At least the pay is better.
I could go on in my own frustrated existence.
But independent of home.
I'd be my own person.
Hey, that'd be nice too!
One less thing.
But for now...

My life is judged on how I work.
Not who I am, but how much I make,
and how hard I bust my ass to get that little. 

In that same month, I did all those things. But for many of those experiences, I felt broken... like I hadn't before, or any time recently. For the first time, my relationship was on rocky ground. It's not her. It's me. We've had our problems between us but never one as serious as this. I don't even feel as if I deserve her. No, I do deserve someone as special as her. I do. I've got enough shit to carry. I deserve a treat, something to thank myself for sticking it out, carrying on. I deserve the best that God has to give. Surely God gives rewards for hard work too.

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