preciousstone
The Fly
I hate my job. It's as boring as a dog's ass. I'm a contract compliance specialist where I review insurance claims on worker's compensation accounts and make sure they are paid correct. I am only temporary, and can you believe this f***ing job requires a bachelor's degree PLUS 5 years Medical Billing experience? Neither of which I do have, but this job is so incredibly f***ing easy, I learned it in just a couple of days without any real training. A coworker went through with the procedures once and I got it after that.
Anyway, I am so frustrated that I am overqualified for this job and I'm not being considered an applicant as a permanent employee. And during the day I write chapters in my autobiography, that one day I DREAM of getting published.
This is what I wrote today, a small poem, and it took me ten minutes:
"I keep forgetting all the promises
I've made myself
putting myself last
time goes by oh so fast
tomorrow is already the past...
I picture myself a star
where everyone knows
who you are
but I never stray...that far
Sippin my tea on a Sunday afternoon
daydreaming about becoming somebody special soon
sitting there, doing nothing about it
until I'm suddenly staring at the moon
My life- it feels like a waste
My life- there's no one else to blame
My life- feels like a cut and paste
My life- nothing special, no fame
I work all day
got nothing left for anything else
I work to live and live to work
While my existance is as good as dirt
And I feel as if I don't matter
my position, replaceable
the memory of me eraseable
the vision of me invisible
My dreams, unfeasible
Costs me my talent
my happiness
my energy
there's nothing left good in me
I don't know my path
but I know that the one I'm on
is taking me somewhere I do not belong."
I think I am a writer, and I should be doing something that is within my talent, not some dead-end job that bores me to death. I only work because my family will not support me, emotionally and physically, if I don't work an 8-5 job. What do yall think?
Anyway, I am so frustrated that I am overqualified for this job and I'm not being considered an applicant as a permanent employee. And during the day I write chapters in my autobiography, that one day I DREAM of getting published.
This is what I wrote today, a small poem, and it took me ten minutes:
"I keep forgetting all the promises
I've made myself
putting myself last
time goes by oh so fast
tomorrow is already the past...
I picture myself a star
where everyone knows
who you are
but I never stray...that far
Sippin my tea on a Sunday afternoon
daydreaming about becoming somebody special soon
sitting there, doing nothing about it
until I'm suddenly staring at the moon
My life- it feels like a waste
My life- there's no one else to blame
My life- feels like a cut and paste
My life- nothing special, no fame
I work all day
got nothing left for anything else
I work to live and live to work
While my existance is as good as dirt
And I feel as if I don't matter
my position, replaceable
the memory of me eraseable
the vision of me invisible
My dreams, unfeasible
Costs me my talent
my happiness
my energy
there's nothing left good in me
I don't know my path
but I know that the one I'm on
is taking me somewhere I do not belong."
I think I am a writer, and I should be doing something that is within my talent, not some dead-end job that bores me to death. I only work because my family will not support me, emotionally and physically, if I don't work an 8-5 job. What do yall think?