Due to the horrible economy, I guess I’m going back to work on Tuesday.
I can’t (legally) post what happened publicly at my job over the Fall and Winter terms, but sufficed to say, it is not a place I want to work anymore: it is a performative cesspit of misogyny and ableism. The last two months, I start to panic at the thought of returning. But I also start to panic at the thought of having no money to buy food.
I tried to get out, but it hasn’t worked so far.
And so, I might use my time there to write about a one hundred percent hypothetical situation that most definitely would never happen at a place like where I work. Like, for example, an administrative assistant stealing candy I put in everyone’s mailbox, which totally would never happen. Ha. As if I managed to write even five words during my two months on EI. Every second of existence is like it says in real Little Mermaid:
every step you take it will feel as if you were treading upon sharp knives
I tried and I am tired now. Yet, it’s always on me to change and never anyone else. The world is made for people who aren’t like me. I have a diagnosis now that says that, but it means nothing. The world doesn’t accommodate. The world just takes.