To spend the time to work on anything vaguely fulfilling is very difficult to do.
The amount of time people say to you “That’s been done before”, as they pursue a university diploma to stick on the wall to be qualified for a role that has been done a million times before in an empty vacuous space that is any kind of office.
To churn out invoices faster than humanly possible and then be expected to get faster and faster again. Create reports from data that doesn’t make much sense to anyone in the company, to create information for management to decipher because, simply put they are too fucking lazy to go out and find out for themselves.
Then get older at this job, so much so that you become set into your ways, pushing your kids to make more money than you ever could, so that they have less time to do the things that they are really passionate about and actually contribute to this human existence. Or more like, pay for the things that you don’t really need, so that they can swear fealty to your life and the decisions that you chose to take.
Because, after all, children are made to be in your image. Not like they can develop on their own, or have any time of their own to figure out what this life is about.
To come home exasperated and exhausted not only physically but mentally from a day of being bossed around by imbeciles and socially inept caricatures of weak minded individuals.
To be so distraught that you can’t even bring yourself to actually speak to anyone or actually bring yourself to do anything productive at all, and from this limited amount of time I am expected to scrape out an earning to not only keep this fallacy up but to raise another family on it and take this abuse because I deserve it.
What the fuck.
Oh shit, it’s getting late.