So I sit here, day after day, waiting and hoping for a call that never arrives. Do you know how frustrating this is! Anyway, before...I figured that my ex-employer would give me a call and tell me how much they wanted me back. After what...three months, I guess that's not the case anymore. Stupid, huh? I have too much education to just jump into the fast food industry and not enough to jump into another professional career. It sucks to be stuck in the middle of all this shit and come out smelling like a failure. Why am I not more stressed? Why aren't I in tears yet? Why don't I feel cold despair and utter grief? What psychological imbalance do I suffer from now? It's almost as if I stopped caring, or stopped wanting to care. I need to rage against this disappointment, but I find that I can't even cry. My severance will cover me for three more months, tops. Is that the reason? Are those three months coverage keeping me from feeling? Will it be a different story when those three months are up? FUCK!

I'm tired of trying to feel normal. Actually, I'm tired of the backstabbers and double-talkers. I'm tired of the deceptive cronies...those Umpa-Lumpas who would burn you with a song and a dance to advance their own objectives. I WOULD HAVE GIVEN YOU THE FREAKING RIGHT-OF-WAY, BUNG-HOLE!! I'm tired of the massive shining I've been getting. Don't shine me on...It's beneath you and I really don't deserve it!

What can I do. Not really a question, just a conclusion to a desolate existence. I did my best...or did I??? I really don't know anymore. I want to care but what happens to a soul when the body no longer feels? Oddly enough, it feels strong and intact. But where does that strength come from? I fear to know the answer because it may lead down a dark corridor into an abyss I may never find my way out of.

I see the things that surround me and they stir nothing inside me. No despair, no achievement...all I feel is the location, the time and space that I have assumed as my own. All I feel is this 3rd-Dimensional blob of existence. Sorry Mr. Thomas, the rage against the dieing of the light has flickered and gone out. Oops! Anyone got matches?!?