I am fucking miserable.
I feel like I'm breathing solely for the purpose of pleasing the customers of Whole Foods Market.
Is this really why my mom spent over 9 months of her life pregnant and a whole day in labor?
What the fuck is the purpose of it all?
God I wish this mundane life could just be over.
One of my supervisors just came up to me and expected me to be happy about the fact that they scheduled me at 2:30pm instead of 9am on new years day. ummmmmm
After my obvious disappointment in the whole affair, she says "Can we please you?"
Um, yes Emma, Yes you can. Shoot me in the fucking head. Right here at the holiday table.
Has it really gotten to a point where I'm supposed to be happy about working at a fucking grocery store?
I can't fucking live like this
I have too much passion. Too much love, too much desire.
Here I am, with a boyfriend a sister and an extended family. All of which have a passion and commitment of their own. I am the sprinkles on every body's ice scream sunday- the decoration they can definitely do without.
And yet I choose to live.
to work at a fucking grocery store
To work with people to don't give a fuck about health, or expanding consciousness, or ...well.. me.
Why am I here?
I must have a higher purpose than to show confused elders where the cranberry sauce is.
All this shitty shit happened growing up. Financial struggles, aggressive dad, raping neighbors, raping boyfriends, cheating boyfriends, bullies, cancer, death, death, death, death, death..
and after all that, I kept hearing "Girl, with all the built up, you have beautiful things to come"
When exactly? Is it when I'm at my death bed? or when I hit 40 everything will all the sudden make sense?
Anyone that knows me , knows that I'm not exactly the kind to live for the future. The future doesn't even exist dammit. All that exists is right fucking now. and right now my situation is hmmm, better than most. But it most definetly is not even close to what I desire. So what the fuck am I doing.
Fairy Godmother, are you there?
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