Dear diary 4

From the diary of a fictitious woman

Dear diary,

I am having a day. Work was awful. I really hate when I do my work as effective as I can and some stupid people meddle. They fuck my stuff up and I get the blame? Nah, not with me. I accept a lot and stay quiet and level-headed most times, but enough is enough. I am in charge of the lists, I have my own methods and ways to organise everything. The thing is, if they have no idea how to do things, they should keep their fingers from my files. Double the work is not double the fun.

I feel so disconnected from my life right now. I wish it was different and I wish I knew how to change it. Once again I am sitting on the couch, with a drink and the TV flickering in the background. I should make dinner, but I feel paralysed from the day. I need to let off some steam. In a healthy way. I am too acquainted with the unhealthy ways.

If I had any talent, I would learn to play the piano. Then again, my neighbours would probably be less impressed.

I am spending too much time on Instagram these days. I am not even one of those who compares myself to others. I just watch reels of cooking, carpet cleaning, or new music.

My music tastes are very poppy these days. Unused to be edgier. Not anymore. I am growing older and older.

It’s raining outside. And it is still warm. It smells divine. But everything inside is growing moist. So I will have to close the windows soon. Moist. That’s a word many people don’t like. I don’t know why. I am often clueless. Maybe I am today too. Maybe I was wrong about work. But it rubs me the wrong way. I do my job and I do it well. All in.

Always. Always all in.

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329 words