Back Again

thought it would be best to stop, i tend to get really into what i'm writing and instead of feeling better i feel worse. now i'm gonna make myself write everyday.

lost my job this summer. they said i didn't know enough about the metals industry and that i wasn't picking up the job fast enough. i had minimal training and only constant assurances i was doing fine. it was out of left field, on a friday, with no warning and no time for me to make plans accordingly. i would have been happy to go back to scale operating, but they didn't want that. then they lost 2 or 3 operators within 2 months. everyone seems surprised when its hard to find someone to work for 60 hours a week, away from civilization, and have no time for anything else. i did it, i did it well. doesn't matter, if you don't fit in, it doesn't matter.

i know how i am, i get it. its not that i don't know. i just also know i work my tail off and am loyal. i would love for that to be relevant.

there's all this situations in my life where that doesn't matter. i am loyal, encouraging, hard working. i will bust my ass and be the only person on your side when everyone else has abandoned you. i am your 2am phone call. i will help you move, cook you dinner, take care of you when you're sick. i pay attention to your stories, remember the little things and surprise you when you need it. we don't have to like the same things, i encourage you to see your friends and pursue your interests. i don't have to tag along to everything, i won't make it all about me. you get your life and you get someone at home who wants to be there for you.

but since i can't fuck anytime and all the time, those things don't matter. since there are days where i have trouble forming a thought, expressing an idea, getting out of bed, doing chores, those things don't count anymore. they do, i know they do. but i am sick of feeling guilty over the things i can't do and not being appreciated for the things i can't.