Enter Adulthood.

I didn’t realize how difficult it was to be an adult until I started complaining more.
And it’s not like I’m complaining about real things like health.
It’s little minute things like waking up, going to bed on time, when can I take a power nap… important things.
Maybe it’s not an adult thing. Maybe it’s a baby thing.

I still live my with parents and I’m unemployed.

I’m unemployed and I’ve applied about a million jobs that are on the market for the last 2 weeks.
I’ve sent out an average of 10-15 resumes, cover letters and emails a day and not a single fucking reply back. Hey, employers, don’t post on Craigslist if you’re looking for an employee and not going to respond to any of the emails.

Bartender and stripper friends have been telling me there are no jobs out there and I should become a bartender or stripper or both.  And there’s nothing wrong with being a bartender or a stripper.

I just have weak wrists.

I wouldn’t be able to hold or make drinks let alone go up and down a pole. I could take off my clothes. Easy. For both occupations. But these god damn wrists won’t let me. Also, I can’t stand for too long. My feet hurts… so restaurant work is off the table.  All customer service jobs, really.

Man, standing up is hard.

I need to sit down.

So yeah, trying to find a job has been rough.
Oh, that reminds me.
I need to call my mom to pick me up and I gotta make sure to let her know to heat my dinner before I get back home. I don’t like cold dinners and I don’t like to wait.

Adulthood.
I don’t fucking get it.
But I’m optimistic.

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