day 24

i used to sit at work and spend the whole day thinking about what i would be doing if i wasn’t working. it’s been almost a week since i walked out the office and i haven’t done a single thing. i wake up. i shower. i get coffee. i come home. i sit there. i’ll watch some tv. i’ll play some solitaire. i’ll play some nintendo. i’ll play with myself. whatever i do, it’s just as pointless as the formalities of the daily arguments with my boss. i’d go outside, but it’s far too cold to do anything. i’d vacation, but i don’t want to spend the time traveling to somewhere i’ll never get. everything is done for the sake of it. even if i survive the trip, there will be no memories to keep. nothing beautiful to take with me. what’s the point of a souvenir when i’m dead. what’s the point of anything i can’t take with me.

i’ve got enough credit to last me to the end. i’m surprised i kept my job as long as i did. i guess it was the need for consistency. if i could convince myself that the meaningless of my job was a constant that could never change, then perhaps i could convince myself that it was consistent enough to beat death. a fool’s dream. once you know you are going to die, the thought never leaves. it persists through everything you think and do. it eats away at your mind and imposes itself on everything around you. the paint of my walls are peeling and falling apart. the frays and threads of my clothes are visibly tattering apart. rot and stink eats away at my furniture, food, and body. my sandwich decays in my hand. tukey. ham. lettuce. pickles. tomatoes. banana peppers. american cheese. mustard. mayo. it all falls to pieces as it dries, molds, cracks, clumps, and sogs away. there’s nothing left to do but sit and wait. sleep and wait. eat and wait.