It’s hard to keep writing this when I have the weight of an ocean of depression crushing me down into darkness. Swim upwards and smile. It’s not ok, but keep other people from sinking into black alongside you. Push them upwards. “Are you ok?” “yeah! Of course! Why do you ask?”

You look tired. You look sad. You look like you want to lash out at the world because you work with people you hate, who know how to impress the company and not do as much work as you do. You look like you don’t know what direction to take your life. You look like you are sad because your generation won’t own houses.

Things have been rough for a while. My joys are improvement and victories which I am able to realize when I spent time with Yuki and Leo. I cook, I play, I smile.

I drink.

I forget. For a little bit.

Then I go back to work, and I want to punch every unmotivated curry in their face. I want to tell them to leave. They arrive on words and promises alone, and disrupt our abilities to be productive, and on top of that they claim that their own incapabilities are the faults of others for being unable to communicate. It’s our fault that we didn’t tell them that shitting their pants was wrong.

Imagine that your young, fresh out-of-a-fake-university peer claims they are better than you, then manage to break everything, misinterpret everything, and then blame you for not telling them how to be human. That’s my life with curries. I didn’t think I was racist until I was forced to work with a sample set of people where 100% of the 4 of them were cancerous wastes.

I thought the stories were embellished. No, they truly are worthless, and I would have rather been working with highschoolers.

We have had a new boy, Joji.

He manages to shit his pants and irritate me less than the people I work with. So at least I’ve got that going for me.

He’s a lot easier to handle than Leo. He cries less. He doesn’t sandpaper-grind his face into my chest while I hold him and attempt to comfort him until he falls asleep.