I’ve done an 11-hour shift today.
It’s Valentine’s Day and the wrinkly dinosaurs at the nursing home I work at got more love letters than I did. Not that I care. No, I don’t care about the dozens of phone calls you’ve had today from the people who likes you and no, frankly I couldn’t care less about the rose/roses/messages/cards you got. I’m not bitter and I’m not angry about it. Between you and me, I know exactly why no one has bothered to wish me a Happy Valentine’s Day. It’s because there is no such thing. Valentine’s Day is specifically engineered to make people feel like underappreciated failures in order for us to eat more sweets and buy more stuff that’ll make us believe we feel better. In reality, it’ll only make us feel worse. Much worse. We know this, yet we do it anyway.
Capitalism rests on vicious circles of this kind.
Besides, personally I feel like everyone has better things to do than wishing me – the most ungrateful twat you’ll ever have the opportunity not to speak to when it comes to emotions as I’m emotionally incapable – a good day.
At the moment, for me there’s “bad days” and there’s “awful days”. On a bad day I’ll be tired at work, and on an awful day I’ll be tired at work the day after everyone I know are having fun until five in the morning.
Capitalism rests on vicious circles of this kind.
Besides, personally I feel like everyone has better things to do than wishing me – the most ungrateful twat you’ll ever have the opportunity not to speak to when it comes to emotions as I’m emotionally incapable – a good day.
At the moment, for me there’s “bad days” and there’s “awful days”. On a bad day I’ll be tired at work, and on an awful day I’ll be tired at work the day after everyone I know are having fun until five in the morning.
It’s on days like these I feel even more alien than I usually do.
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