This ‘Working for a Living’ Thing is Killing Me.

I don’t wanna go to work.

Mentally, spiritually and emotionally, it’s draining my mortal soul. I’m slowly dying from…what? What could I call this feeling of “UGH! I just don’t wanna go!”

Let me rephrase; working at this fucking job is draining my soul.

I want to sit here on my couch, writing and staring out the window all day. I don’t wanna deal with entitled, insecure people who need to have their egos stroked in order to buy something so that I can do things like oh…I dunno…eat and pay my rent.

I’m over it.

Every day of my life I wonder “how the hell did I get here?”

Mentally I know that we’re all responsible for our position in life. I’m ‘here’ because I haven’t bothered to make and execute plans to be anywhere else.

That’s the bottom line.

I’ve managed to get myself addicted to a show in which people from all over the world (usually the US and Canada) go to some gorgeous Caribbean island, searching for their dream property.

Now…when you read the words “dream property” you’re probably thinking that these people are spending a shit-ton of money, but it’s actually not all that expensive.