Living The Dream

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Here I am again. I think this is even the same parking space I used yesterday… No, I was over one space. Staring into the tree’ skinny and twisted spine. The thin dark green leaves popping out at me. But it all feels like a dream. And I wish, instead of seeing through the thicket to the field of brown dead grass, there was a lush forest. Somewhere I could wonder. Fine a suitable bolder to sit on and eat my lunch. Feel the wind, hear the rustle of leaves, just to be at peace.

Instead I eat lunch in my car. I can’t bare to go back inside. I don’t want anyone to see me cry. I suppose I am being foolish when I should be thankful. I practically begged for this job afterall. But I’m not happy here. This isn’t what I want. I should be grateful for all the useful skills I am learning that I can translate right into marketing for my book. But… God… I am just so miserable! How does anyone do it? How does he do it? Work somewhere you’re just so unhappy? I should be used to it I suppose; or maybe my tolerance has warn thin.

“You’ll never be happy with your job.”

Is this true? Is there really nothing out there that I could like? Am I doomed to become a zombie answering telephones, “Thank you for calling… How can I help you?” Wandering through life with a gray overcast and slaving away at a job I hate all day to slave away working towards (what feels like) a hopeless dream by night?

It’s like… No matter what I do, or where I go, I am out of place. I look around at work and everyone seems to genuinely enjoy what they do. Even when they’re stressed you can just tell they are happy. I want that. I’ve only come close. The only thing that makes me happy is writing. But writing doesn’t pay the bills.

I should be happy. I work at a publishing company- a truly great company! It’s like I’m living the dream… I just don’t know whose dream it is…

A Stressed Poetic Vent

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There’s so many

Thoughts and feelings

I’m experiencing

Right now

And I’m trying my damnest

To get them all out

On to paper

And into words

Truth be told

I have no idea what’s going on

In my head

In my heart

I want to blame it on others

But for what?

Why am I so stressed

And upset?

Does it have anything to do with you

Or am I just imagining it?

That must be the answer

That it’s all in my mind

Because when I talk to  you

All is fine.

Then what is this panic in my lungs

The frustration

I am numb

with?

Is it all fabricated?

Why am I so dramatic,

What is wrong with me,

What is the source of these feeling

That are pilling into me?

Just write them down

Write them down

Let them all out

Once I am done I’ll have nothing to worry about.

But what if they don’t go away?

What if they lay inside

And start to decay

Rotting my insides

Day after day

How the hell

Am I supposed to live this way?

It’s Okay

It’s Okay

It’s all in your mind.

It’s Okay

It’s Okay

You just need a long night

rest

A good,  rested sleep

That’ll melt away the stress

The grime,

The death,

Be gone

Be gone

And never come back.