when you know nobody is reading it becomes easy to write what you really feel.
So then, is this what life comes down to: working a job you hate with co-workers who ignore you (especially if you dare to challenge their precious status quo) only to come home to sit your fat ass down until it’s time to do it all again the next day. Occasionally you go and do something but for the most part it is deadly routine. How I hate it.
I am a modern day Ivan Ilyich wondering if I have lived my whole life wrong. And I suspect I have.