The Prison of His Days

Okay, I've tried. I was practical. I thought about the future. I balanced the things I enjoy with the things that have a sufficient job demand. I didn't take out loans for a grad school with no future. I went job hunting.

See where that got me.

I've been working a full-time nine-to-five job for eight months, and I've spent most of those spiralling into depression and anxiety. Most of my hobbies make me feel good only occasionally, or I haven't had the energy to pursue them. I still don't have a full driver's license.

So, fuck this. I've tried doing what I "should" do, and it's actively toxic to my health and wellbeing.

I'm going to spend my life doing what I want.

My therapist thinks this job is bad for me and I should apply to PhD programs.

For the amount I'm paying her, I guess she might as well encourage me to believe that the solution to hating my job is to get a different one instead of to endeavor to become someone who does not hate this job.