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I was once so tired after an exam. I was walking. Wandering along the footpath, my head down, and I looked up and I can swear to god that a bus was heading straight for me. I screamed and leapt out of the way only to realize I was hallucinating. I was petrified and tried to catch my breath as my heart pounded like it was going to smash out of mychest cavity. I then noticed all the people on the footpath near me staring. I got up shackily and shuffled off once again with my head down.

I guess eating instant coffee out of the container at 3 am in the morning in order to stay awake didn't help.

The people I now work with are living under the guise that work is just something you do. Perhaps I was lucky because I got a kick out of all my jobs and made them fun; I had many adventures. Some of them seem to make themselves more useful by giving me mundane chores. One guy stands next to the fax machine with a stack of papers and asks me to fax them for him. He reminds me of the one lobster in the tank at the grocery store who sits in the corner and looks like he's cleaning up: No really, I just work here. Don't eat me.

I'm tired of being treated like a retard simply because my job title permits stupidity. I'm not stupid. I can't just sit here all day. The two fast food meals I've consumed within the last 8 hours feel like they're turning to cement in my body, gluing me to the spot with lethargy. I'm tired of waiting for things to get better, holding down the only stable job I've managed to find so far and yet still not being able to pay any of the bills that have backed up on me within the last month. I got this job through a temp agency, and they want to hire me on for real. Someone in the food chain mentions this at least every two days and inside I'm screaming FUCKING HIRE ME, THEN, PLEASE GOD!!! I CAN'T LIVE OFF $8 AN HOUR!! They will wait until the month of my assignment is up and keep paying me peanuts. My life is the dust on peanuts.

I'm tired of the world being so blind, and I'm tired of feeling like I can see things that other people can't and when I show them what I see, they look at me like confused goldfishes being poured into a blender. One guy at work who's never spoken to me asked what my Tip You Bastards and Whitey Will Pay stickers on my car mean. I had to explain this to him.

I'm tired of being in pain. My shoulders ache constantly, my back and thighs pop whenever I move. I've already got vericose veins, spider veins, cellulite, stretch marks, gray hair, and I'm only 25. What hold will middle age have on me when I'm already ahead?

I know the best advice to give. I know what I should do and what I will do. It's so tiring just to be alive, to walk outside and realize that apparantly everything in this world is run by money and was originally conceived from an idea within a human mind. To realize how much better the world could be if only people weren't so worn down with life. To realize that this was not what was intended.

Every season, like a clock
every hand the hour gear.
Every bridge and every reason,
every half-won, battled treason.

Every tooth and every tower
broken heart and painful hour.
Every voice that turns against,
what once was loved and now is cursed.

What once was called for, now is carrion,
every bridge and every reason,
what once was loved and now is cursed.

And every hour kills another,
every voice that turns against.
Every bridge and every reason,
every lost to battled treason.

Fading hope and fading reason,
year of dying and broken seasons.
Every bridge and every reason,
the pull of years, a tide of treason.

Every bone that pulls to heaven
every bridge and every reason,
every vow and every treason.

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