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I’m tired.
I’m tired of being tired all the time.
I’m tired of complaining that I don’t have enough free time to do the things that I really want to do, and then do nothing with the free time I have because I’m too depressed to do anything.
I’m tired of feeling like an empty shell that gets on the bus every morning with other empty shells. Every day we all stare blankly at each other while we’re on our way to do the thing we hate the most but can’t afford not to do.
I’m tired of this town seemingly full of zombies like me who are obviously unhappy with their condition but have given up the fight a while ago. This town depresses me to no end.
I’m tired of dying a little more every morning I put my work clothes on. It only reminds me how different my life would have been if 20 years ago I had made the bold decision to do what I really wanted with my life, even if it meant my income might be less than half of what I’m doing now.
I’m tired of being the middle manager who gets crucified whenever his subordinates screw up, but never gets any credit when things meet or exceed expectations. I hate myself for being too much of a nice guy for this job, but the thought of becoming the kind of asshole I need to be in order to succeed in this environment is even worse.
I’m tired of being in a marriage that feels like I’m living on my own.
I’m tired of coping with your belief that happiness is measured only by the shit you buy. I’m sick of hearing that we don’t make enough money when our income is already four times what the average household earns in this shithole.
I’m tired of being called selfish whenever I dare to stand up for myself and protect my interests.
I’m tired of living in a place where my seasonal allergies are year-round and ten times worse than anywhere else I’ve ever been to. I’m only staying here because you won’t give up the job that initiated our downward spiral. It’s even worse knowing that you hate this job anyway.
Every day I feel like breaking every single piece of furniture in my office and screaming my lungs out, but sadly I'm way too fucking civilized to do that.
No one can even begin to understand how fucking tired I am. I CAN'T spend the rest of my life in the Maritimes and I CAN'T stay in this job. And I won't.
Selfishness: No. Self-Preservation: Yes. There is a difference. —Done with the Guilt Trip, Moving Forward