Seriously? Seriously, I freaking out. The novelty sickens me and bothers me to say. So stand up for real, for work which, palpate the Thune end of the month, causing serious contractual commitments, and finally you see is my end, the guy who # 18-25 packing operation in the bulk frosties. Who stood up for Rediff Olive and Tom. The guy who went from childhood to inertia, yawning. And I'm freaking out because I could see that I get acclimated to the responsibility and overtime hours. I thought it a bit easier anyway, your boss takes you for an adult, you t'enfiles costume and you slip the win-win in excel without Chouin? Come on. In fact, after years of complacency and self-pity onanism (NIST?), I participate in the community. Normal. And the fear is so fit, he may also be that there was no adaptation. Maybe I am one of those people you ask anywhere and immediately recalculate the linear function of their principles (ie which do not). Finally, rather than to piss off with the principles, ideological talking about furniture. I exaggerate, but it is 4am. So maybe I am among those who live without redesign of existence according to the lease without. You ask me to Sudan, I take up arms and I shoot on sight. You ask me to Vichy, I denounce. A Baicheng, I await the monsoon.
short, I told myself, it's disturbing. If the outside conditions you so much that you exist only through and for him, you'll damn bored at your death.
But - but! - Thursday I finally got the evidence that an identity a bit boring hide under the body bitter. Imagine that I could see the family. And that I was as detestable as usual, ie the borders of autism and disinterest. While I'm working! And I should - if one follows the logic set for no less than a paragraph - they can hold a discussion on adult purchasing power or the weather that persists to meet quotas of showers. So which is the moral of the story, although fluctuating social, I am a big con amorphous. I was afraid. A moment.
0 comments:
Post a Comment