I quit.
I quit. I quit. I FUCKING QUIT!
I will fill this space with words, shut down my computer, pack up my things and walk out that door.
I will take my frustrations out on the elevator buttons until the doors open and I am freed.
I won’t turn back. I won’t think of this place or the people. I won’t even pretend not to care.
I won’t.
Instead, I will head home to nurse my swollen finger and iron the crease on my brow.
Or maybe I’ll switch on all the lights, turn the music up and wake the house.
They’ll be angry at first. Or maybe scared. Most definitely worried.
“What’s wrong”, they’ll say.
I’ll respond with laughter. Uncontrollable, uninhibited laughter – the kind that comes in hiccups and makes me tear.
“At least I’m not crying”, I’ll finally say. “And now that you’re awake…”
Awake. Awaken, Awakening.
Words are pretty. Pretty useless. Useless.
But where will all this lead me? Because I’m back to where this started.
This is what being trapped feels like. At least a being painted into a corner only results in dirty shoes and a ruined floor – nothing a little work can’t fix.
Fix. A little work. Work.
I know… I need help. In all senses of the word.
Word. Words. Work.
And here is where the daydream ends. A little rant, a little insanity and *poof* a whole lot better. Nothing has changed but the perspective. Yet that is all we have.
I WON’T QUIT.
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