My Sad Drive to Work

Alright folks, trying this thing out at work. It's currently 3:33pm and I've been at work since 7:58am. I wanted to write about my drive to work because it made me feel some sorts of way. So here we go

Yah there's lots of traffic. Whatever. Turning onto 101 street though, that's when shit gets real. I see bodies lying on the ground. At least 5 people. They have blankets and fold naturally, placed along like theyre sleeping, so I don't stop to check on them. I see someone walking without shoes, it's only 8 degrees this morning. I see a young person walking, I don't know their age ,but defitnly a youth. I SEE THE MAD HATTER! Listening to music through earbuds with wires. He doesn't see me drive by so we don't exchange a wave or a nod or a rock and roll hand.

I hate this job. I hate seeing the pain and suffering. I hate that I've become numb to it, sliding down the rusted nail ridden slide of apathy. People scream, cry, walk around hopeless. What else is there to do. I eat my yogurt, go outside to feel the sun. I'm inside, well fed, slept okay. Never sleeping on concrete or injecting something to wake up and start my empty day. I sit at the desk, legs folded, my knees hurt. My co worker buzzes around like a mosquito, she's new and needs my blessing to do anything. I look for new job postings, waiting till I have to drive back home on 101 street Home, what a funny concept. I'm in their homes. We are always in their homes. They have no privacy, not with creaking wooden floors, stairs built in the year 1910. A few rooms are haunted but they don't bother me. It's now 3:42, 5 more hours of this. Waiting to go home. Waiting to drive down 101 street . My co worker asks where the forgotten laundry in the machine goes. It's wet, keep it in the office. Someone else needs to the machine. It feels good to write. Maybe I'll tell you stories.

I've been thinking about my words being read. Why it scares me, but how i yearn for mycelium connections. Maybe it's in here. Maybe it's in being brave. Maybe it's on 101 street I literally don't know. I know I don't want to be here though. Not in this old office. I want to talk and teach and learn. I get meth in my nose every time I go out to connect with the gals here. Sometimes down. Always cigarettes smoke. I feel nothing and it bothers me. I feel hollow in my chest. THIS IS HOW I SPEND MY DAYS????