and every day you're in this place you're two days nearer death

[xaara]

I quit my job two weeks ago. I'd had enough. I was going to bed angry and waking up angry and dreading work from the moment my alarm went off to the moment I walked through the front doors. It was damaging my ability to be kind to people. And when I felt, more often than not, the urge to tell customers to fuck off, I decided it was time for me to go.

After I turned in my two weeks' notice, my managers talked to me, offered me a raise and a guaranteed thirty hours a week. I almost said things I would have regretted, but I refrained. Sometimes, I do actually possess self-control.

There's no room for regret here. I don't regret quitting the job. Sure, the next months are probably going to include a lack of chocolate-covered espresso beans and possibly also apologetic, cringing calls to the landlord to ask for a little pity while I scrape together rent. That's not the problem. I've been without money before.

The problem is that I want something to work. I want to do a job I like, I want to do a job that means something to me. I want school to mean something to me. I want to get up in the morning because I'm looking forward to my day, not because I can't afford a no call/no show. I don't ever want to burn out as hard as I did at the end of this school year. I don't ever want to wake up angry again.

I'm taking a few weeks off--The Boy and I are driving home for my brother's graduation. Hopefully, my head will be on straight by the time I get back. And I will be able to breathe again.

Comments

[lark_ascends]

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