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My mind is blank, but it also feels like I have 100 different thoughts going through it at once.

I wrote a short story and all the people I asked to read it said it was great and they enjoyed it.

It scared my mom because it was an intense story about an abused woman, and she was worried that it was based on real life experiences. I told her it wasn’t. It really wasn’t. I have been treated like absolutely garbage by men but never abused physically.

I don’t think I am going to have people close to me read my stories or books I will write in the future. It really is like letting them into the darkest recesses of your mind. They can’t help but judge.

I haven’t been in the mood to write anything of substance lately, so I am just free-writing.

I am still not working at the moment and school starts in about a week. I have enough money to pay bills for the next 2 months, so I have to find a job at least in 2 months.

I wish I could find a good work from home job. I don’t want to answer phones, I’d like to do one of those chat customer service things.

I am going to watch Blue Planet and go to sleep.

Should I post my short story on here?

Looking both ways

From a young age you’re taught to look both ways before you cross the street. As life goes on you’re taught to look both ways when you’re driving through an intersection. Look both ways when you’re stepping off a curb. This adds up to the idea that you should always look both ways, no matter what you’re doing. Don’t become complacent.

In every aspect of our lives we look both ways. When making a decision we weigh the pros and cons. We imagine the different outcomes. It could either go this way or that way. When we chose to love we make a conscious decision to open our hearts, or not to.

Looking both ways makes everything simpler yet more complicated.

Sometimes it’s easier just to be impulsive.

I’m having a hard time in this world.

I quit my job today.

I quit most of my jobs.

It’s become a reckless and impulsive habit I have developed. When I was younger it used to just be “whatever”. Now that I’m older it’s just becoming a hassle. I quit the job before last because my manager was a belittling jerk, constantly talking down to me, snapping at me and completely unappreciative of the hard work I put in. I never called in sick, never came in late, had great communication and customer service, and yet it was never good enough. She was toxic, the office was toxic (literally, the other girl I worked with had terrible breath) and so I left. I put my 2 weeks in and I left. I made it 1 year exactly. I’ve never felt better about leaving a job.

This most recent job I quit today was delivering packages for Amazon. I worked for a 3rd party delivery service provider. The company itself was good, my boss was good, the dispatchers were clueless but friendly. I enjoyed working with the other drivers. I work hard with any job I have, with this hard work came shitty routes. I was constantly put on extremely difficult routes, downtown, by the capitol building. The most difficult part about it was that we weren’t trained on a dedicated route like UPS or Fedex. We were just sent somewhere we’d never been and expected to maneuver a giant van around. It was frustrating and I told them this. The next day, SAME ROUTE. I held it together. Today, for the 3rd time, I was put on another shitty route.

Just to clear it up, if you work hard and are a good driver they give you extremely difficult and shitty routes because they have faith you can do them, but if you’re lazy and slow they put you on the easier routes. Makes sense….

So I called mid-route and told them I quit. They tried to convince me to stay, told me I could take my time, but I had had enough.

Once again, I am almost 30 years old without a job. It’s scary but also satisfying. I don’t have to worry about going back to work, dreading the stress and wondering which route I will be on the next day.

Now what?

I just can’t work the 9-5 Monday through Friday. I feel myself dying inside a little more each day. I don’t enjoy interacting with customers and dealing with people, I obviously don’t want to be a package delivery driver. I’d love to be my own boss, start my own company. Everyone else does too.

I guess I am stuck. Applying for pizza delivery jobs, driving for Doordash. It’s an uncomfortable feeling knowing there isn’t a steady stream of money going into your bank account each week. This job I had was perfect on paper. Three day work week, 4 days off. $15 an hour. But at a certain point, which I reached today, that just isn’t enough compensation for the stress.

I think I am going to try to write a book. A short one. About something I know a lot about. Then publish it on Amazon books or kindle or somewhere electronically. Let’s see how that goes.

I tend to disappear.

It’s been so long since I’ve written. I finally have a break from the insanity. I was taking 2 English classes for school this session, which is 2 classes crammed together in a 7 week program. It was a lot of writing and reading and I didn’t take any time to write anything I actually wanted to. I have a short break until my next classes start back up again. School stresses me out, just like it does everyone. Especially being a 29 year old woman with a labor intensive part-time job. It hasn’t been easy. I managed to pass all of my classes this semester with an A and I was very pleased with myself. My functioning depression has been going in and out of itself lately and hasn’t been affecting me as much the last few weeks.

The most difficult part of getting older is wondering if what you’re feeling is normal or if something is seriously wrong with you. Is it normal to not look forward to anything, yet to have the will to keep on living because you know things will start looking up soon?
Where will I be in 5 years? Germany? What if I never make it to Europe? What draws me there so much?
I need to sleep now. I picked up an extra shift tomorrow so that means an 11-12 hour day.
Good night all. I want to try to write more, even though no one reads it.