i feel like throwing up. again.
i thought i just needed to eat something.
that i could just cook something to eat and it’ll be okay.
but eating made it feel worse.
everything’s not up to taste.
i feel sick.
i think he’s angry that i actually let that job go.
i don’t regret it. well. except for that one time when i thought about how good it would be when one day someone asks of my job and i’m working there.
but as i thought about it, even that felt odd and unbelievably wrong – to work in a place for the sole purpose of looking good even when your heart is in constant worry about the implication of your decisions.
i don’t want to work and feel guilty.
he thinks that permanent jobs can be easy to quit too, but of course he doesn’t know that. he never quits. he doesn’t know what it’s like.
it’s too messy.
in a perfect world, everything he says would come true with ease. without flaw.
but this isn’t a perfect world.
and i don’t want to lie.
i don’t want to put other people’s time and effort on the line.
i don’t care if it means i have to work two jobs to come up with the same or more pay than the one that i let go of.
as long as my heart’s in it, then isn’t that worth all the hours?
he doesn’t understand what i’m seeing.
it’s not always money and status all the time.
money money money
if it’s so damn valuable to you, then why not you go ahead and go money hunting yourself?
put in your extra time and work for that money that you want so much.
don’t push it on me.
i have my own things. my own dreams.
my own goals and plans.