At least the euphoria lasted the weekend.
Working at Kruse is killing me. I don’t think it really dawned on me until yesterday when we were heading over to pick up my mom and Nana for the circus. Look back through anything I’ve written over the past few years and note the ebbing and flowing waves of depression caused by sitting in my office. Alone.
Were I to put words to the despair, they would speak of the early promise of greatness; giftedness. All of that was squandered by time and indecision.
My friends are dead or distant or too mired in their own problems to care a whit about mine. What I need goes so far beyond friendship anyway, that had I established some of these bonds earlier, I might have a possibility of having what I need today.
Too many choices I have made were incorrect. And so here we are.
I can build a second life. It’s going to take some time, but I think I can do it. I have some steps written down in my Palm. Three or four. Some of the entries are larger in scope than the others. No, they’re all pretty big.
I guess this is where people turn to God for help, but I have my Palm.
At some future point, I will wonder what all the fuss was about. The job interview didn’t happen. It was just symbolic of the whole struggle to get out of this purgatory. Sitting. Waiting. Naught to do but write about how I will change it all. You would think with eight years of this that I would have figured out a way to extricate myself. That if I was as intelligent as I have often led myself to believe, I would have solved this puzzle long ago. Interesting.
