Dead End

I’m alone too often with my own thoughts, which isn’t good for me. 

I’m paid staff in a charity shop, with volunteers who don’t turn up half the time. So all I do is deal with people alone who treat me like the scum of the earth for a little bit of money.

I’m told I should be grateful, that I should feel like I’m doing something good, but I’m not and I don’t. I hate every second of it. Serving the general public is the most thankless aspect of my job and I hate being treated like I’m nothing.

This place reminds me of my life’s failures every day. How stupid I was for thinking I would one day be worth something.

I completed a 12 month training course last week at an attempt to prove to people that I had a brain and that it still worked, but again it only reminded me of what I don’t have. A goal or aim in life, a path to follow. I see no paths anymore, I think I used to, I can’t remember. There are no more routes to take, I stand on a square in the middle of the ocean waiting to be rescued but nobody’s coming and I can’t swim.

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