Dead. Empty.

That's me.  Well, Work, you've finally done it.

You have sucked every last drop of soul out of my body.  There is no enjoyment left in anything for me anymore.  I have been reduced to two emotions: anger and despondency.  That's all I have left.

I hope that you're happy because I certainly am not.  I've tried and tried to not let you seep into my home life, but the seed of disgust that you have planted has sprouted and has just plain taken over.

MommaShyner thinks I'm gonna have a heart attack before I'm 40 because of you, Work.  She's probably right.

I'm trying really hard to get away from you and your dark evilness, but you know as well as I do that the economy licks donkey balls right now and opportunities are just not there.

You think I enjoy sitting at my desk holding back tears of frustration and disgust all day?  How long do you think it'll be before I snap?  Got a pool on that one, Work?  If you do, let me see it and I'll at least make sure that someone I like wins it.

OMG. STFU. Work, you really and truly suck.

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3 responses to “Dead. Empty.”

  1. Came across this just as I was thinking, "That's it… I'm officially burnt out. Don't care anymore. Got nuthin' left to give. Yet still have 9 hrs of work ahead of me (pulling 12 hr days) plus Sat AND Sun and all next week. And even if we pull this rabbit out of a hat, we've already agreed that it's going to IMMEDIATELY start again, from scratch."I'm soooo done.

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