On a final whim I turned in my badge tonight. I've worked nights for three years now. In those three years I've become very distanced from the rest of the world. I can't blame the job for that but my odd schedule has helped facilitate an environment of isolation. I've never been good with handling people, but lately I seem to be slipping afar. A year ago I tried transferring to a day shift, but they said we had too many new guys on my shift so they need my experience on nights. I tried again recently and it's the same answer. So tonight I finally quit. Nothing beautiful or fun about it, I'm scared.
I could attempt to explain the whole corporate details and how frustrating it's been to watch all the angles of how a business makes money. But those things seem to be relative across the board across many industries. The social aspects of a career are unnerving. There are a good number of very respectable coworkers that I wish nothing but love to. But there are also
many parasites and face-changers. I'm becoming very doubtful in my ability to be a neutered servant and fear turning into a battered old man, heart filled with hate. I've seen them every place I worked, at first I thought they were crazy... but now I see my reflection. I am far from fit to be in the Good Ole Boys club. There are no favors coming to me.
I've unraveled my ghost and can see myself years ago and peer backwards through a mental lens. The extremism with which I understand things now are so dramatic and with such depth, I'm scared of what the future holds. I'm to the point where I believe I can't survive with what is placed before me, this society. I can get another job, and start the slow painful process over again... but what's the point-- I know how it ends. I feel my mind crawling under a porch. What scares me the most is that, throughout the times of this universe, I am doubtful of a selfless existence. At what other point in time would I have survived this long as a member of a community. This is as good as it gets. Maybe a million lives I've lived, how few in success? The inadequate thinker that I am, able to channel great thoughts to no avail. I can understand and create, then forget as I drift into the waking sleep of institutionalism. How do you make dreams come true.
From the beginning, my time was squandered before I had a chance to make anything of it. I was a lemon from factory. I couldn't be repaired, just looked over and reissued. Systematically, I have been driven to distraction by the needs of a greedy society. The things that are most important to me have not always been my own. In the last three years, in my own little world, I have finally started to see what MY will is. Fragments of myself are to be picked up- I hope to piece together some stability and maybe even a smile.
29 Sep 2010, 12:51 am
