I'm a self-described workshy benefit sponger, a curse to aspirational/capitalist society, and someone who should be forced to work in a workhouse or concentration camp.
(Yeah, it's not dark humour...it's just dark.)
Occasionally I get so fed up with the guilt of doing f*** all that I join an employment agency and do whatever it is that I'm told to do, usually picking stock or cleaning toilets, or whatever else happens to be on my CV as an indication of all a lazy waste of space like me can ever aspire to, and what I resent doing because I resent having such a jaded and cynical outlook on life.
There is nothing that I 'want' to do, and I'm left with the depressing reality of the default doing what you 'have' to do, to account for the essentials of life, at least, whilst being acutely aware of being completely dependent on state provision.
This constant cycle of resentment against myself for being that well-brought up, clever, well-behaved kid at school who had it all to look forward to, threw it all away piece by piece due to having a pervasive 'quitter' mentality, and turned into an embittered middle-aged loser would feel more tragic, if it didn't seem so pointless and preventable.
I've only got myself to blame, and so I do. Always blaming myself, but superficially blaming others - individuals and institutions - for not understanding me, a hapless, frustratingly complex individual who hasn't managed to take his own life yet, and rid the world of yet another problem.
Getting work isn't, and never has been, the problem. It's not necessarily holding onto it, though I don't last long as I habitually quit readily enough. It's more so how pointless it all seems. I can't relate to other people, so I struggle to just see work as an opportunity to socialise. I don't 'get' money - I cannot resign myself to the cynical view of 'work for pay' because I never accept the purpose of being paid for stuff I either need/don't need, but have little choice but to go along with anyway, because we're all 'wage slaves' and just need to accept the fate of the unaspirational loser. I feel depressed and burnt out whatever I do, however I approach it, and the feeling of it all being so pointless just gets worse as I get older and leave whatever remains of my youth long behind.
I'm a slave to the freedom to work that my lazy, slave mentality cannot accept. I'm kept alive in a world which has its moral qualms with working people like me to death, and I guess I should be grateful for this. 🤔 But I'm acutely aware that anywhere else, in any other time and place in history (perhaps the future, for all I know), I'd be dead by now.
So I work at avoiding work, and work on my guilt for not working, and consider the painful irony of existing as an example of how so much privilege and prospects for potential greatness can go so horribly wrong, leaving this over-taxed, burnt-out society that I exist in somehow responsible for the maintenance of a clapped out, broken has-been like me.
A
(Yeah, it's not dark humour...it's just dark.)
Occasionally I get so fed up with the guilt of doing f*** all that I join an employment agency and do whatever it is that I'm told to do, usually picking stock or cleaning toilets, or whatever else happens to be on my CV as an indication of all a lazy waste of space like me can ever aspire to, and what I resent doing because I resent having such a jaded and cynical outlook on life.
There is nothing that I 'want' to do, and I'm left with the depressing reality of the default doing what you 'have' to do, to account for the essentials of life, at least, whilst being acutely aware of being completely dependent on state provision.
This constant cycle of resentment against myself for being that well-brought up, clever, well-behaved kid at school who had it all to look forward to, threw it all away piece by piece due to having a pervasive 'quitter' mentality, and turned into an embittered middle-aged loser would feel more tragic, if it didn't seem so pointless and preventable.
I've only got myself to blame, and so I do. Always blaming myself, but superficially blaming others - individuals and institutions - for not understanding me, a hapless, frustratingly complex individual who hasn't managed to take his own life yet, and rid the world of yet another problem.
Getting work isn't, and never has been, the problem. It's not necessarily holding onto it, though I don't last long as I habitually quit readily enough. It's more so how pointless it all seems. I can't relate to other people, so I struggle to just see work as an opportunity to socialise. I don't 'get' money - I cannot resign myself to the cynical view of 'work for pay' because I never accept the purpose of being paid for stuff I either need/don't need, but have little choice but to go along with anyway, because we're all 'wage slaves' and just need to accept the fate of the unaspirational loser. I feel depressed and burnt out whatever I do, however I approach it, and the feeling of it all being so pointless just gets worse as I get older and leave whatever remains of my youth long behind.
I'm a slave to the freedom to work that my lazy, slave mentality cannot accept. I'm kept alive in a world which has its moral qualms with working people like me to death, and I guess I should be grateful for this. 🤔 But I'm acutely aware that anywhere else, in any other time and place in history (perhaps the future, for all I know), I'd be dead by now.
So I work at avoiding work, and work on my guilt for not working, and consider the painful irony of existing as an example of how so much privilege and prospects for potential greatness can go so horribly wrong, leaving this over-taxed, burnt-out society that I exist in somehow responsible for the maintenance of a clapped out, broken has-been like me.
A