Today has not been kind to me so far. As you can see, I am sitting here on my laptop instead of at work. For the second shift in a row, I drove all the way down there just to have a panic attack in the parking lot and turn right the hell back around. I feel like I have to put way too much energy into that job. It absolutely drains me. Maybe it’s time I admit I’m just too damn revolutionary in my thinking to bend over backwards serving booze to rich people for scraps off their gilded table.
I thought last week I could make it work. I really thought to myself, “I can do this.” Then I got the eviction notice. Now everything has changed. I just don’t know if I can do this anymore. Obviously I can’t because I keep having panic attacks every time I roll up to work. I told them I could work until the end of the season. Now I can’t because I don’t have anywhere to live. I don’t know if it’s actually worth it to keep working when I’m just going to leave them high and dry in a month anyway. Obviously I care more about abandoning them than they do about abandoning me. Who needs a crazy boyfriend when you can have toxic, abusive relationships with your jobs instead?
I have to give a lot of energy to this job. Faking my way through this bullshit is really hard for me. Why am I spending so much of my time and energy on a job I hate that I can no longer commit to? Why am I investing in a job that could throw me out on the street tomorrow without a care? I really just don’t want this job. I just don’t care anymore. The money isn’t worth it to me. I don’t have anywhere to live. I’m not falling into the trap of staying longer for a job that probably won’t work out anyway. There is no point in this shit. If I’m going to be forced into a situation where I’m living out of my car, then I’m going to live out of my car. That means strapping in and getting the hell out of here. I’m not going to pretend to be Little Miss Happy Dumb Waitress for bored rich guys when I don’t have anywhere to live. Fuck that shit.
Life is short. Coronavirus could kill me tomorrow. The last thing I want is to die in the middle of fucking nowhere in the one place on Earth that makes me more miserable than I ever could have imagined. I realize this isn’t the most rational thinking during a pandemic, but wow… if you think I sound crazy, you should really try bartending for rich people right now. It’s an eye-opening experience, and not in a good way. It truly is horrific to see how they behave. I can’t actually watch it anymore knowing that so many people are suffering right now. It’s just… too much for me. It makes me angry. I feel sick deep down in my soul. Maybe a better person than I can beg those assholes for money, but I… literally… just… cannot even.
I guess I’m off to write now! Better get started on that freelance writing business, huh? Yeah, let’s see how being my own Boss will go. We know working for someone else just ain’t cutting it. What have I got to lose? Ha ha ha! Nothing anymore! And so my life as a Digital Nomad begins, albeit a lot sooner and much less gracefully than originally hoped. It turns out being broke and homeless isn’t as glamorous as bloggers make it out to seem. Who knew? 😉