Maybe I’ll go back to my apartment and sleep for 15 hours. Fuck work. Who cares when I get out of bed. Ten hour days of getting shit on by children. Get tiring just as quickly as you’d expect. Is there nothing else I could do?

You can be as patient as you want, but getting treated like you’re trash will never feel good

Dealing with high school kids and seventh graders is making me get way too old way too fast. I never thought I could care so little. A note I found in an english teacher’s desk says, “Have you found your voice?” But reads to me, “This is your chance to get out. Don’t fuck it up now.”

4:15 on 101 North some fuck head wrecked I'll be late for work. Two little kids pulled out from a ditch zipped up in black plastic bags. A mother permanently poisoned with grief. And I’m angry and worried about these selfish things. Yeah, okay. What’s wrong with me now?

I want to be a nicer person. I want to be positive and do my part. I want to stop with the sarcastic remarks. I want to feel less anger in my heart. It’s just hard when it gets spat back in your face.

8 PM on a Monday night it’s dark already when did that happen? My worn out old windshield wipers can’t keep up with the rain I can’t see shit. I’m gonna die like in that awful Robin Williams movie but in a way it feels good to feel fucked up about it. I don’t wanna die listening to A Better Place, A Better Time

Patience

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Patience

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