Alice in the working land.

Easily attached. Three days into work, and I’ve already felt like this place is home. It’s like a common problem for me. Because it’s dangerous to feel that comfortable in something that you barely had days to digest.

The love for life , the love for peace , the love for companionship , all boils down to being unnatural. The weird way to view life. They say. Evil lurks around while the good get slaughtered. Eventually getting a deserved revenge and the story echos in many minds . Should’ve been there’s a storm to wipe everything out, so that everyone could learn nothing from that story.

I know. It’s bad. I should assume more. Look for the warning signs, be vigilant. All the things I’ve been doing since my days in work. But all it does is bring nothing more but stress. Never did I wonder to slowdown from the spiral. Just compulsive spending to the max to comfort the panicking soul. Everyday is a new anxiety party. One slip and there goes my mood for the day. So hey, what gives? You do have the choice to make better changes. But instead, coping with it to really work my way though something I can’t explain. I’m usually pretty stubborn, but this is something different. I can’t wrap my head around that wave of persistence.

A path to self destruction. Determined to chase the high in being drunk. To sugar and alcohol, they are such a bad thing for me. Stress related activities are often paired with those two choices. And I was lost, because I’m blind sighted by the problems money could bring, and my stress to be independent myself. I could handle it. Until debts and bills are introduced into my life. Never knew the stress they could give you, and how it will make you fall behind in social settings. I’m used to be a nobody, but the aching truth is the poor financials that are pulling me back. I could only reject meet ups that many times, until people start thinking that I might actually hated them.

So how is it? Do I justify the amount of sorrow I’ve taken as if people are using me emotionally? That’s pretty manipulative if you ask me. I’m always the reason that things don’t go well, as my friends and family kept telling me. And I accepted my defeat, by slowly decaying into a deep coma of a passionate despair. I’m a screw up, I can’t make good decisions.

Jolly oh jolly. I’m sure to love my next new job again. My friends did some research. Saying this place is as strict as it’s possible to be my next hell. I never have regrets about getting into trouble. Maybe a little. But all the time it’s those little cracks that really makes the reality different. I’m hopeful to work here, but not really to keep on working here.

“Hope this job is going to be good for you.” I often rant about why I quit my previous job, but never really calm down myself to my real reasons of quitting my job. It’s pointless, the routine is pretty much zombie like to be honest. My dad can’t wrap his head around my reasons why it’s pointless. I bet he’s numb by the routine daily, it’s no secret we are both defeated by life itself.

So is there a lesson here? The obsession to have a closure to such simple story. People bad? Working sucks? Dreams are made up clouds? The problem with stories is that it’s too predictable. What’s next with the mayhem flow of this writing? Another wasted minutes just to read into the meaning.

It’s me, Basil fresh. Simply holding on to my Infamous draft about false hope inspired by the office. It’s quite dark. But it has a nice twist in it. It’s obviously a cliffhanger, since you know how audiences love and hate suspense.

🌿 ✨