Impasses Suck

This mid-life crisis came early as hell for me. The last year of my twenties closely approaching its end, and now the panic and restlessness comes. At a job I hate, with people I like and others that make my skin crawl, all while having to put on smile while I do work that even a trained chimp would think was beneath it. The absolute exhaustion of day after day, sitting in a cubicle, waiting for a generated script to pop up on my computer screen and give [insert name here] a courtesy call to go over crap about their new product that they (A.) already know, (B.) can look it up themselves, or (C.), don't give two shits about. And of course there's not much I can do right now... crappy environment, crappy economy, and even crappier disposition on life.

This job has made me realize how little of a people person I am, and how fine with that I am. Some of those people I give those calls to are truly despicable people, snapping and barking because we are somehow pestering them or trying to sell them something. "Why do you need to know my birthday?", some of them ask when we ask that they confirm their date of birth. Seriously? Your birthday is the easiest thing I can gather without your freaking knowledge, and plus it's sitting right there on my fucking screen. Hence, the reason we say "confirm"; we already know your birthday, genius.

But, it's not them, really... it's me. Almost 30 and this is where my life is. All I wanted to do was write and do reply videos on Youtube, but more often than not, life got in the way. Self-doubting led to days of depression and loathing, time going by while others lived their realities and followed their paths. This job I have now really has forced an awakening in me. This can't be all I am worth. It's not. As an atheist, I took the steps of coming to grips with my own mortality and understanding that there is no divine favor or "prosperity." You can work your ass off and have the most talent in the world, and still be living in a shitty motel surrounded by bums. Meanwhile, Love and Hip Hop and Real Housewives bestows treasures on its trash.

Is this is pity party? Yeah, a little. I look at those idiots at my jobs in their high positions, making their good money while the rest of us just slum it, talking to crabby old people and individuals who shouldn't even be allowed to cross the street by themselves, let alone hold a credit card. I'm probably going to end up quitting this job eventually, and for the same reason I left the Army: in the end, my sanity and me sense of being have to be guarded and maintained, because once that's gone, I'm gone.

Okay, I'm done.

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