*snarl*
You know what? I'm angry. But not just angry, no: I am break-shit-with-a-bat-and-swear-violently-and-don't-you-get-in-my-way angry. I am going to break my long silence with a lot of fury.
I'm angry about work expecting and/or threatening to make us work more than the 4 hours mandatory overtime WITHOUT compensation because of the fact no one wants to stay there. Fuck being salary.
I'm angry about people being fucking stupid when they call in to my workplace for our services and don't want to listen, just want to berate and insult the agents. "Fuck you, you ignorant son of a bitch!" That was a great clip to listen to.
I'm angry about my co-workers being a bunch of turds to callers and pissing them off who in turn then whine at me, and having wound them up so high I can't unwind them, and then I get 'coached' about how to 'talk down' an angry caller. Fuck you. I know how. Not my fault people just want to be bitchy.
I'm angry that the fucking immigration process is still held up and I haven't yet heard about an interview date. STILL.
I'm angry that my job brings me no sense of satisfaction or minimal recognition if I don't suck up to the powers-that-be, or actual recognition of a job well done, of seeing hard work turned into something concrete.
I'm angry that the immigration lawyer kept promising I'd hear by the end of September and here we are, the second week of October and still nothing.
I'm angry that I'm still not married and living my life with Carl now, and all the little plans I started to eagerly build on the encouragement of those around me have been destroyed because of this immigration bullshit.
I'm angry that I don't get to see my friends very often because they're all far away and I have no method of travel other than bus, plane, or begging rides.
I'm angry that I have to keep smiling and keep answering the same questions over and over and over again even though each one is like a knife in my heart: 'When are you going?' 'When are you getting married?' 'So how's your immigration going?'
I'm angry that I'm angry about that, by the way, because I should be glad people care, but FUCK, STOP ASKING EVERY DAY! FOR FUCK'S SAKE, IF SOMETHING GOOD HAPPENS, YOU'LL KNOW! How much do you expect me to take?!
I'm angry that I have to watch all my friends around me plan their weddings and buy houses and go on with their lives, and I'm doomed in this holding pattern characterized by loneliness, frustration, and broken hope.
I'm angry that I keep picking myself back up, screwing that smile back on my face, and pretending that everything is okay, that I'm happy and well adjusted, when this, THIS is what I want to do - to rant, scream, and swear, and curse everyone else's good fortune while lamenting my own.
I'm angry that I'm the one being consistently fucked over by life and it just feels like everyone around me gets a free fucking pass! What the *fuck*, man, did I kill six million people in another life or something? What the hell have I done to deserve this? I try to be a good person, to think of other people, to put them before me, to push myself to break out of this little cycle of depression that sneaks up on me more often than not because I know I'm stronger than this... but still, what the FUCK, what gives?!
And then after the anger's out, I stop and reflect, and I know... I know that not everyone has a shiny, perfect life. Everyone has problems - whatever you want to call it: crosses to bear, burdens to carry, speedbumps on the road of life. No one gets a free pass, as much as it feels like I'm the only one. I feel guilty that I could get angry at the good fortune of those I care about, that I could get envious of them. Envy fades. Friendship is far more permanent.
At the end of the furious rage-storm there is a desolate calm, brought on by the knowledge that this... this is life. This coping, this waiting, this suffering, this fading hope, this - all this - is life.
I just wish the knowledge brought me comfort.
Now I'm just tired. I always get tired after I blow off the frustrated anger. Tonight's a night for distraction, to rebuild the armor, and to put it back on in the morning as if nothing's wrong.
Life goes on, after all. And one day, I'll get to stop waiting and live it properly.
I'm angry about work expecting and/or threatening to make us work more than the 4 hours mandatory overtime WITHOUT compensation because of the fact no one wants to stay there. Fuck being salary.
I'm angry about people being fucking stupid when they call in to my workplace for our services and don't want to listen, just want to berate and insult the agents. "Fuck you, you ignorant son of a bitch!" That was a great clip to listen to.
I'm angry about my co-workers being a bunch of turds to callers and pissing them off who in turn then whine at me, and having wound them up so high I can't unwind them, and then I get 'coached' about how to 'talk down' an angry caller. Fuck you. I know how. Not my fault people just want to be bitchy.
I'm angry that the fucking immigration process is still held up and I haven't yet heard about an interview date. STILL.
I'm angry that my job brings me no sense of satisfaction or minimal recognition if I don't suck up to the powers-that-be, or actual recognition of a job well done, of seeing hard work turned into something concrete.
I'm angry that the immigration lawyer kept promising I'd hear by the end of September and here we are, the second week of October and still nothing.
I'm angry that I'm still not married and living my life with Carl now, and all the little plans I started to eagerly build on the encouragement of those around me have been destroyed because of this immigration bullshit.
I'm angry that I don't get to see my friends very often because they're all far away and I have no method of travel other than bus, plane, or begging rides.
I'm angry that I have to keep smiling and keep answering the same questions over and over and over again even though each one is like a knife in my heart: 'When are you going?' 'When are you getting married?' 'So how's your immigration going?'
I'm angry that I'm angry about that, by the way, because I should be glad people care, but FUCK, STOP ASKING EVERY DAY! FOR FUCK'S SAKE, IF SOMETHING GOOD HAPPENS, YOU'LL KNOW! How much do you expect me to take?!
I'm angry that I have to watch all my friends around me plan their weddings and buy houses and go on with their lives, and I'm doomed in this holding pattern characterized by loneliness, frustration, and broken hope.
I'm angry that I keep picking myself back up, screwing that smile back on my face, and pretending that everything is okay, that I'm happy and well adjusted, when this, THIS is what I want to do - to rant, scream, and swear, and curse everyone else's good fortune while lamenting my own.
I'm angry that I'm the one being consistently fucked over by life and it just feels like everyone around me gets a free fucking pass! What the *fuck*, man, did I kill six million people in another life or something? What the hell have I done to deserve this? I try to be a good person, to think of other people, to put them before me, to push myself to break out of this little cycle of depression that sneaks up on me more often than not because I know I'm stronger than this... but still, what the FUCK, what gives?!
And then after the anger's out, I stop and reflect, and I know... I know that not everyone has a shiny, perfect life. Everyone has problems - whatever you want to call it: crosses to bear, burdens to carry, speedbumps on the road of life. No one gets a free pass, as much as it feels like I'm the only one. I feel guilty that I could get angry at the good fortune of those I care about, that I could get envious of them. Envy fades. Friendship is far more permanent.
At the end of the furious rage-storm there is a desolate calm, brought on by the knowledge that this... this is life. This coping, this waiting, this suffering, this fading hope, this - all this - is life.
I just wish the knowledge brought me comfort.
Now I'm just tired. I always get tired after I blow off the frustrated anger. Tonight's a night for distraction, to rebuild the armor, and to put it back on in the morning as if nothing's wrong.
Life goes on, after all. And one day, I'll get to stop waiting and live it properly.