There’s been something hanging over my head, delving inside and out of my mind. A twitch. Something that’s burning my fingertips, sending spasms down my body. Shivers when it’s warm. There’s a turtle’s race in my thoughts, and a shadow I can’t peg down. The air is too thick. I inhale like the consistency of mud. That twitch, it’s always there. My throat wants to close, my heart beats too fast, too light. My apathy seems to gain momentum with each tick. I keep forgetting something. Jigsaw pieces that drift away on the mind’s current. I find them, sometimes, but by then they’re out of arm’s reach. They make me long for my younger days, when everything held its proper place, and I could figure out what the hell was going on.
Simply put, I am dissatisfied.
What ever happened to us? We used to be a man of principal, a man of moral value. We used to stand against the unjust and puff out our chest when we knew we had done right, and no one had seen. Our successes were always in private, as all true success is. Our failures were taken with grace and humility, but in full view, as all failure should be.
Now you just wallow. You seether. Your lips are too loose, and you track dirt back to your home. You hold your shoulders a little higher, but your face twice as close to the ground. You let the unjust do as they please, and can’t be bothered to sully your business for your own morals. In fact, you never feel them anymore, do you? You just get mad, like the adults you pitied. You must be growing up.
She tells me that I am not as strong as others. She told me that I have to set my own limits, subpar to the average, and hope for success within it. I have found more disappointment, more failure, more sadness in her advice then I ever did pushing your bar. I have experienced all the same illness regardless.
You used to be strong. Now you are weak.
And I don’t feel like being weak anymore.
I want appreciation, and respect. Selfish, sure, but it’s what I want. I want to reclaim the frustrated parts of my teenage counterpart and utilize his mentality with a mature understanding. I’m tired of working for these people. I’m tired of only hearing my mistakes, every day, of what I did wrong the last. What another person has done wrong. What is wrong. Everything about the store screams wrong to me, and thru me. It’s wrong to be there. And it’s getting me upset.
I feel appreciation only comes for the hardest worker, the one that essentially can out-work others. I am physically incapable of that; I know my limits are reached. Every shift, if a person hears of their mistakes and failures, over and over again, they will no doubt be disheartened. Some even begin to believe it. Is that really what we’ve come down to? Easier to criticize than to compliment?
I have lost all interest in trying. What motivation does it hold to me to push my body’s limits for no acknowledgement, and if a mistake were made, to be brought back to have it focused on? This goes in more than just the workplace it seems. Why aim to please the one that only has negative things to say?
Logic tells me you don’t.
Worst yet, the only reason I don’t leave that I can think of is that every place I will go to will be this way. Every job environment in my past has orchestrated itself in this perverted fashion of only picking up on the flaws of your actions, never the well-preformed. One of my last jobs knew of my medical problems, and that I could not work on the same level, and more importantly, speed as my coworkers. He later evaluated me and wrote that I work too slow. I am on disability. You get that for having a health condition that impedes with your daily life. Obviously if I have this, I can’t work at the same degree as someone ‘average’. So how am I supposed to feel appreciated under this kind of system?
I miss my psychology. It’s a jigsaw piece I’ve just found that I was missing. I want understanding, and I’m the fool for not trying to understand. I am not able to be on-par with others, and I get frustrated for not being understood. Perhaps I should be the one that understands that the one accessing is unable to understand because they have their own deficiency?
I digress, and I ramble. So, in layman’s terms:
I’m unhappy, and feel unappreciated.
I do not like my job.
I want to quit, but can’t figure out how to not fall into the same trap.
I want to be able to deal with this maturely, but lack my own way.
I felt the need to bitch. So sue me.
Perhaps school will bring me the satisfaction and the respect I’m craving.
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