I decided to quit my job at the restaurant...well...I think I decided that. I'm wavering right now. I handed my manager the letter that said I would be quitting in two weeks. That was a week ago. And I was sure then. But now...now I wonder if perhaps I should just not quit. I'm good at my job, I make money, and...well, I feel like I deserve to work in the hostile environment that is fostered by my manipulative manager. Almost like penance, if you will. That seems silly and ridiculous to admit out loud, but I think it's how I legitimately feel about it. Oh, we finally ran out of dishwasher soap. I don't know how long it takes normal people to go through a box, but ours lasted for...uh....9 months. 9 months. Hmmm...There are interesting correlations attached to that number (btw, I'm trying to type with my keyboard perched on my legs, but it isn't working very well...anywho...)
I'm tired, so very tired. I try not to show it, but I feel it. I hide behind caffeine and willpower, and sometimes I even manage to hide it from myself, for a little while at least. But then the night drags on, and my thoughts turn again to the state of my mind and body. I'm tired of not knowing what's right and wrong. Tired of the war inside me. Tired of feeling like I'm always losing. Tired of not knowing what I want. Tired of lacking direction. Tired tired tire...too tired. Tired of not being able to sleep tired of waking up feeling guilty for having slept. I could drag this list out. If I wanted too. I'm sure I could think of plenty more things that I'm tired of. But, for the sake of your sanity, I will cease. Or perhaps I'm already tired of typing.
~Tpp
I don't think there will be a picture tonight
