There's a strange thing that happens when you get too comfortable with life. I've been working a lot and I'm starting to realize the overall futility of my existence. I had a pretty funny conversation with a random person at Stampede that made me reflect quite more than expected.
Stranger: So do you work for GMC all the time?
Myself: No, I'm just doing the promotion for Stampede. I usually work for event services with the City but this is the off-time for them.
Stranger: Oh, so does the City have you work Stampede?
Myself: No, I work for another company right now.
Stranger: So you have two jobs?
Myself: Yea, I guess.
Stranger: What do you do when Stampede is over?
Myself: Go back and work for the City right away.
Stranger: What?! So then when is your "me-time"?
Myself: Uh, I don't get a lot of it.
I get no me-time. I spend so many hours of my life trying to get my hands on enough cash to boost my quality of life but working this much jut serves to diminish it. I'm starting to hate my time off, I crave being somewhere and doing something for money. I get paid and I look at my pay cheques and feel like I'm barely making a dent in the debts I have. My lust for luxury is so consuming but so impossible to satisfy.
I don't want "me-time." I want money and beautiful things. This comes with working as many hours as I can at the highest wage I can get. This means my brain functions like a machine and my moods are in disarray. My life is just means to an end and I'm not really enjoying the journey. This is what I think about when I'm on the train to work. When I'm standing too close to the glass and I can see my own solemn face reflected at me. And then I start to hope the train derails or maybe the wind pushes the cars into a light post. I close my eyes and hope to vanish just to reappear anywhere but where I am. But this is how things are and I can move my life around but it's the same story whichever way you tell it. I need to go get ready so I can get to work on time.