Why Must I Suffer in Endless and Unrelenting Torment Until I Eventually Die and Other Tales

Me @ My Childhood

Chapter 1. Why Was I Born?

At my previous job, about 5 months ago, I was standing at the bathroom sink: mentally preparing to go to the interview for my current job and attempting to brush my teeth with a wet wipe. Then, all at once, with the violent abruptness of a piano falling from the top of a 15 storey high-rise, I was wholly consumed with feelings of unadulterated misery and emotional disquiet.

"Jobs", or as I call them: ''Carpet-weavers, Morocco' imagined'  are something of a double edged sword. Yes, you need them in order to get that $cash money$, but seriously: at. what. cost.?

Trading in my precious youth at a job I hate just to make enough money to put food on the table for my future illegitimate child so that they can grow up to get their own job that they hate ???? It is a literal nightmare of unyielding proportions. 

Worse than the job itself, though, is the job interview - a shameless charade in which one must convince someone that they want to be hired for a job that they don't even want. Never do I feel more like I am selling my soul to 'The Man' than when I am citing my attention to detail and unabating dedication to the menial. It is a ceaseless cycle of despair, and one that I will be trapped in until my best years are behind me, and I'm more ""Grandmother Willow"" than I am ""Little Mermaid"". 

And so, at that moment, standing in that bathroom, I was struck by the question: truly, what is this hellish thing we call existence, and w h y must I be a part of it?

Chapter 2. Reflection

Sometimes, I reflect on my childhood: a joyous time when my future seemed as bright as the blinding white light of the sun - kind of like when you accidentally open the lid of a photocopier when it is still mid-scan and go blind for 6 minutes. A time when my life lay before me as a series of endless pathways, so plentiful were my opportunities, that I was afraid to choose one for the fear of choosing wrong. The world was my lobster back then, and I thought that was how it would always be. 

Tragically, however; time is a cruel and unforgiving mistress and I am her subservient whore. Gone are the naive plans and idealistic ambitions of my youth, buried forever in the field of dead hopes and dreams. 

I can only assume that I have done nothing wrong and that this is all entirely the fault of society. I recently read Frankenstein and discovered that the true monster was humanity all along. (But also Frankenstein's literal monster who was killing the townspeople and stealing huskies and etc.).

As much as all of this makes me want to revert to a pre-verbal level and live out my days in the hospital from Girl, Interrupted I feel that I must persevere. But only because I know that is what Julie Andrews would tell me to do.

So I sit at my desk, day after day, and stare out the window, fantasizing about the day when technology has advanced such that I can build a robot who is indistinguishable from myself and has no capacity to understand slave labour laws. She will masquerade as me at my job by day, and be my sex slave by night, and this will finally afford me enough time for leisure activities like reading gardening magazines in the sunshine (or something??). 

But until that day I have to go to my job myself, like a chump.......