At times, I sincerely dread the thought of having to write here again. As time grew to serve as a witness to my recurring lapses of judgement, it became strikingly clear that I wasn't going to walk away scot-free. I've been slacking off at work and whereas the idea of a "slacker intellectual" appeals to me, the lack of productivity doesn't. With unemployment staring me in the face, I'm coming to terms with the fact of my own accountability. It doesn't look pleasant. Despite my alleged potential, I still can't drive myself to finish half of the things I need to pass at the end of the day. Mental illness is at play here. I acknowledge that. Isn't self-awareness supposed to help me cope, though? At least something to get me through the day? It isn't supposed to be easy, but right now I feel incredibly shameful and powerless in the face of my reaction to the demands of working life.
I was desperate for work last August but I've barely churned anything out since I was hired and I honestly feel like I've worn out my welcome with the good people of the company.
It may be sooner than later, but I'm bracing and I'm scared. More so with my less than stellar brushes with the "real world."