Words have nothing on music

Sick of it all

I’m seriously considering quitting my job, mainly because of the hostile social environment. I’m sick with the people there-with their little schemes and bloated egos. I’m sick with busting my ass out without getting any recognition. I’ve had enough. I'm not a slave.

On the rise

Or it rather feels like that after being buried down deep the black hole with my birthday as an epicenter. It feels like that today at least, that is. Which is more than I’ve hoped for anyway. If I’ve hoped for whatever at all, of course. Which I haven’t. Lately I go as far as to make it through each day unscratched. “Tomorrow” seems more of a contingency rather than a certainty although with very high chances for occurrence.