48

I was at home sitting waiting for another day of work to start.  Like I always do.  Dreading the thought of having to go there again.  No one there is real.  No one there is happy.  Everyone there is sick.  Like there's this disease that takes a hold of people.  Keeps them weak.  Keeps them helpless as they slowly die.  So I remind myself why I go there.  And I tell myself it's just another day.  That I'll get through it like I got through the days before it.  But it's a lie.  I hate the feeling.  I shouldn't have to lie to myself.  And tell myself that it's the job I'm really worried about.  When it has nothing to do with it.