Posted at 6:44 PM 0 comments (+) Yesterday I ended my final shift at the shop I've been working at for the last 6 months or so, and for the first time since leaving a job, I am not flooded with a sense of relief or the like. Honestly, I hadn't wanted to quit. I enjoy the job, I like the people I work with too. But yes, the job doesn't bring in nearly enough for me, especially when I have to spend quite a bit travelling there.

When my parents kept pressing me to quit the job, even when I just landed the job, I was so determined I wouldn't. I mean yeah, I got the job in the first place because I needed money, and this job doesn't pay enough. But when I started to really work there I was beginning to feel like the money could be secondary, because I feel happy when I'm there. At least I've proven to be useful and valued (even though also replaceable)...

But then slowly, even some of my friends have questioned me on why I would want to take up such a low-paying job and travel so far every weekend. Then school closed in on me and I realised I have a huge exam to study for. Then I started to think about leaving again, leaving home, not the job. And how much money I would need to be wholly independent, and how staying at this $6/hr job is not going to get me anywhere near that.

Come to think of it, I think 6 months was the longest I have ever stayed at a job. Although yeah, I didn't work daily; only about twice weekly. The last time I took on a 9-5 job from Monday to Friday for four months, it nearly drove me nuts. Maybe this just shows how much of a non-office person I am.

Sometimes when I wake up now I'm not sure how to take it from here. Sometimes I find that even words fail  me. Sometimes I cut everyone out.

I think I can heal myself but I think I'm really just self-destructing.