the ramp for I-20 west is right there on my way to work
and it wouldn't take much to just say fuck it
and turn right and then right again onto 26
and head up toward Bryson City or Boone
and check into one of those little motels built in the 1960s
when life seemed kinder even in the midst of internal angst
and then call her and say, listen, i'm sorry but i couldn't take it anymore
none of it, the whole thing is ridiculous, i'm an old man
and i've done this my whole life and i'm fucking tired and i'm not
going back there and you can join me if you want or stay there
it doesn't matter because either way i'm done with it
and they can take the whole lot of it and i'll live in a fucking tent
and you can live in my tent, too, or you can find some other place to live
because this fucking job is squeezing the life out of me
and by that time i'm in the parking lot and then i'm clocking in
and then there i am, at it again, bumbling through another goddamn workday
Written by javalini
Author's Note
One long, quick spill expressing the angst of...stuckedness.
I feel stuck this morning.
I've got to get unstuck.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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