Mutually Assured Destruction

Monday morning.
This is the same Monday that's been playing on a loop around here for years.
I can't wait to go home.

I don't feel very good.
Sort of sick.
Tired.
Odd.
I don't know - maybe I have a fever or something.

Time to break out the old 'Josh At Work' lexicon:
"Hello." "How Are You?" "Pretty Good." "Monday, Huh?"

There is no Josh - he's a fiction, a construct.
Anything I've told you about myself was most likely a bold faced lie.
I can't remember the last time I actually felt alive.
Or felt like I existed, mattered.
Fuck I hate feeling this way.
But I can't remember ever feeling any other way.
I do feel this way all the time,
so does that mean that's the 'normal' way for me to feel?

Boo fucking hoo, right? Fucking cry baby asshole.
It's been a waste of your time to read this shit and for that I apologize.

Let's talk about something else, yes.

Let's muster up some excitement or joy for something.

But it looks like I'll have to start this miserable day first.