i am become robot

Warning! The following post contains profanity, something I usually object, but alas, the times call for these hateful words, and I could not help myself. You were warned.

I pretty much had it with this job. I am a robot here. This job requires me to be a robot. Everything repetitive. Calculated. Done. I hate being a robot.

This is the second time that I've cried on the drive home from work. It's hard to drive when you're crying. Don't feel like talking about the first. This time, D. , the office asshole, called me "lazy". I'm not sure if he just said it to be mean because he was in a bad mood because he had all this work to do that he let pile up. Or was he being true? If so, I have this to offer up in my defence. Is it laziness if I do a particular task slowly and carefully so I know that it's getting done right? I'm sorry that I'm slow. I just want to do my work right. He called me this, and I said nothing. I let him say it.

Anger built up in me. I hate this guy, the fucking asshole. I hate the payroll guy who comes in and spies on me and then reports to the boss. Kuya told me to key "cocksucker" into the payroll guy's BMW. I want to do it. I want to do it so bad. To both him and D.'s car. I know their addresses. I can look them up in the computer. I want to toilet paper their houses, write "cocksucker" in big letters so that the neighbors can see. I want to let revenge take over me so that I can get back at these evil men that make my job miserable. I've made my mind, and I hate these men. I will write their names: Leo (who I put here as D., for his last name) and Diron (payroll guy). They don't deserve anonymity. I hate these names for what I associate with them.

I want to quit. But I can't because that would be wussy, and I'm not a quitter, I'm not going to let those assholes win. What doesn't kill me makes me stronger.

How I long to be 12 again. I want to know what it's like to not know cuss words. To have a fear of them. I want my summers back, and my innocence, and my skinned knees and bloody noses, Mom rubbing Vaporrub on my back, and Dad putting air in my bike. I want my camping trips and party favors. Exchange it for this harsh, cruel future. For all this money.

I am learning. Never get a desk job. Live for your passion. Never subject yourself to unhappiness. Oh, Riley how I need you to make me laugh...