“So you’re six years old, you’re reading ‘Snow White and the Seven Dwarves,’ and it becomes rapidly obvious that there are only two kinds of men in the world: dwarves and Prince Charmings. And the odds are seven to one against your finding the prince.”—Emily Levine
I find myself in the worst of moods these days. It is torture going to work. I feel…trapped. Angry and frustrated. Furious at the thought that I might end up like the women I work with. How did they let this happen to them?
…but it seems to sneak up on you. Days, weeks, and months go by. Every day a variation of the last. Time literally flies by. Will I wake up one day and realize I’ve been at this job for 15 years?
The constant cackle of their voices, their mundane lives so pitifully…empty. Like crows, they gather to gossip. I don’t want to end up like that. Don’t get me wrong, I understand that in the grand scheme of things these emotions are not peculiar and they are rather minuscule comparative to other people’s problems but try telling that to my brain (and my feet) on the mornings when I work.
After the complaining and whining in my head on full blast on these work mornings comes the incessant scolding for being ungrateful (many don’t even have jobs)
I know, I know.
Perhaps I just get angry at things that tie me down.