I try not to. But I do.
I worry if I write too many good things about myself people will think I’m bragging. That I’m full of myself. Maybe that’s why I write so many negative things about myself.
There are a lot of things I do that I don’t want to do. Mostly those are things other people want me to do.
I’m a people-pleaser. I want people to like me. To love me.
That’s not such a bad thing by itself.
I do things that make me unhappy to make other people happy. That’s when it becomes a problem.
When I become a doormat.
“If you hate your job, you hate your life.”
– Dale Partridge
I really want to quit. But I feel like I can’t.
I’m burning out. Burned out. Beyond burned out.
And no one seems to care.
“Just keep going. We’re depending on you!”
I’m running myself into the ground.
First-world problems, I know…
Maybe I’m just tired.
I never want to hear that phone ring again.
Why can’t people ever think for themselves?
In my dark moods I think some people are too stupid to live.
I’m tired of being a doormat.
I feel like my work is stupid and meaningless.
I hate myself for doing something only for money and being so gutless.
How much longer do I have to keep doing this?