Funemployment is over-rated.

It's like a spark, or a collision, or a tangle of one too many chords for our personal electronic devices, and it gets pulled tighter and tighter until it's hopelessly ensnared. Yeah, I suppose it's like that. D'you know that point, when you're trying to untangle some stupid knot, and you just can't get it unraveled, when it just won't come undone for you, and you sit there, determined and frustrated with a ball of knotted yarn in your hands, and you keep picking and picking at the knot, and pulling thoughtlessly at the endless strands, and all you have left is a prayer that eventually all of it will become undone soon so that you can get on with knitting some stupid hat to keep you warm because you can't afford a fucking two-dollar beanie at a dollar-store, and the more you try, the more you pull, the tighter the knotted ball gets, and the more you just want to fucking pull your hair out and throw it all away, the yarn, the needles, the whole of it?

That's unemployment.

I try, I do, to do beautiful things, to be a beautiful person. Today I did something for somebody I love, and I like to think it was a beautiful thing, less so because of what it was, and more so because I did it to try to make her believe she is as lovable, beautiful, as I know she is.

What does it take? What amount of whatever it is I don't possess must I learn to feign before I can get a job that will allow me to make enough money to drink myself to sleep every-once-and-a-while?

I don't know, I know that the majority of what I bitch about here nowadays is unemployment, but seriously, this sucks. It's really hard to feel good enough about yourself to get a job when you're not enough of whatever it is you need to get a job. Really, I'm either way too over-qualified, or way to under-qualified, I guess. Either way I end up hungry and achingly curled-up and stressed-out and fucked-up from nicotine and alcohol withdrawal.

I just want to not be me anymore.