Pointless

It's all fucking pointless. I try and I try and I try to get what I want, to get what I need. But it seems that every step I take in genuinity makes me look more and more fake... Who am I really? This quiet and timid placid thing that does what everybody tells her day in day out, smiling on the outside and never complaining, until she gets home and unleashes all of her hatred and rage into the painful exhaling of cone after cone after cone...

Getting rediculously stoned to then follow through with passing out early and unproductive, pretending that I'll enjoy the 8 hours rest before waking up to do it all pathetically again, like I have some form of growth or enjoyment in this pointless exercise. The fat get fatter, the rich get richer the poor get abused and fucked over.

Why must everyone I meet feel that it's okay to shit on the little guy? Oh and trust me, you may not know it but at some point in your life, you've shat on a little guy... We all have. I'm just sick and tired of the little guy being me...

'Did I make a terrible mistake?

An error in judgement that I cannot seem to shake?

It looks as if I'm stuck here in this dream, yet I cannot wake.

I pull the terrors apart like pillows made of sand,

but underneath there exterior they're still uneventful and bland...

A splash of colour, a dabble of paint is all this place would need, a little yellow or something mellow to put the heart at ease,

It's hard when you're the only circle fitting into a square, you're really close but not close enough for any of them to care.

These pretty, pastel people,

these withered angry people,

these accosting costly people,

are taking my mind away...

And the harder I try to keep it from them, the more that I regress, and pretty soon I'll be so withdrawn inside that I too will be colourless.'

It's like they want to sew buttons onto my eyes... This place, was supposed to be full of life and enjoyment, where I would fulfil my dreams, where I would become who I was supposed to become. But it's so different to what I expected. I do not mind the work load, I'm not saying it's too hard... The tasks I enjoy, at least when I have to do everything it keeps me busy. It's the moments where I have nothing to do that stirs me... I can't stand being in the same room as her. If it's for more than 5 or so minutes, I feel my hands starting to shake... In fear, in intimidation, in anger and opression more than anything... 'All anybody knows, is your not like them'.
It's almost as if she feels she's got me figured out, when she knows jack fucking shit about me, or who I am.
None of them know me, would any care to find out? No, why should they? I'm just some stupid 18 year old hippy "What the fuck am I asking you for? You're just some stupid hippy".... Thats prejudice and fucking horrible. A manager is supposed to manage, but she doesn't! She just sits around and yells at people when they get too comfortable. She constantly has to 'redominate' like she's some lioness trying to keep her pride...

I'm not coming in to take anything from her. I just simply want to enjoy my work environment... Being this miserable, is not helping my art. I feel like I'm depressed more days out of my week than I am happy... nothing I ever do seems to make it any different... Just different in the way in which I go home feeling disapointed. Fml.