At age 14, I was a concessionist at a crappy movie theater in my equally crappy little town. I met a lot of different people working there, but the work itself was never really fulfilling. And that’s been the story of almost every job I’ve held to date: you’ll meet interesting people (maybe even make some friends), but after a while it all becomes a drag.
I’m tired of dragging my sorry ass out of bed every morning to go somewhere I despise and do something that does not feed my soul. I’ve learned much and I am grateful to the people around me who have shown such kindness and patience. I will never forget what I’ve experienced, and I know it will be useful in the future.
But right now…right now I’m done.
The bright side of my frustration is that it led me to realize the potential in working as a freelance writer. I know it will take time to build my “brand” and really make it into a living, but for the first time in a year I feel like I can breathe.
That is what writing is for me. Like oxygen.