I'm stuck at work until almost midnight tonight. 12 hours in a building I've grown to hate, doesn't exactly do good things for the soul. I think about the minutes of my life that are tickickg away. Boredom isn't just a side effect of my job, it's a requirement. Stop trying to entertain yourself, do nothing to keep your brain from atrophying as you stare at the screen. Focus. Be professional.

The pockets of the fat cats are lined with gold, and I'm helping them along. Don't think I don't see the irony, when I can barely make ends meet, when I know that if I needed them, I couldn't afford that drugs that are making you rich.

I'm trying to get out while I still can, but I fear I'm going to be going straight from the frying pan into the fire.

(Why is it so hard to be free?)