Reading the comments on my last post, I think Megs is right... I might, in fact, be allergic to life. Drat. We all know what the cure for that is, and you can't drive on LSD...
Anyways... I think I may have figured out what one of my triggers is. I can't really post about it here, because I don't want to hurt anyone, but I know what it is that I see and hear when I pick, and recently it's been getting much worse. Certain voices, certain things people have said... I can't figure out how to just purge them from my brain. Any luck on that hard-reset, Ducky?
So, tomorrow I'm back at Richardsons, on Afternoons. Pat's shift. Hm. Should be interesting. I'm telling myself "One Month, that's it..." so I can allow myself to start looking for something else. To be honest, I do kinda feel loyal to the plant... I don't know why. I mean, working there all summer would take me completely out of debt, and give me a little cash to start with, but I don't know if it's really worth it anymore.
I feel like I'm in this emotional black hole, like nothing makes sense. And lonely. Very much lonely. I don't think working's really going to help, but we'll see.
At least I know one thing about Richardsons: It won't suprise me. That place never changes.