Tweaked Reality

It's a curious thing, humanity. The species that is constantly changing, yet never truly learning.

The universe is infinite. Expanding endlessly and stretching across unfortold space. When one end meets another how would you describe it to someone, to yourself? You simply couldn't... so why try?

•••

I woke up to darkness, save for the evening light leaking from the top of my curtains. I pulled out one of my earplugs only to hear a voice sitting within my ear.

"Hey! You stop that!" I could hear my sister say to her son lightheartedly. He's only two but already a trouble maker, although the "terrible two's" definetly haven't hit him as hard as some.

It sounded strange though, her voice. Logically I know it's coming from the other room. But the way it hit me was as if the sound was coming from the foam earplug itself which I was still holding by my ear. Small and quiet, like there was a tiny person talking in my ear. I listened a little bit longer confused from my recently awoken state and then finally took my other earplug out, rubbing at my ears afterwards. Sound returned to normal, finally logic and perception met. It sounded like her voice was coming from the other room.

I sat up in my bed, taking a second to look for my cat. He was laying on the bed I had bought him which was honestly a relief because he doesn't use half of the things I get him thinking they'll make his life better, or maybe just make him a little bit happier. I walked to my door and opened it to see my sister, my nephew, and my cousin along with her fiance. I then took a look at the clock to see that I only have an hour to get to work. I've been working graveyards ever since I got transfered to a seperate site at my job, and now I am also working twelves on the weekends. Aside from the huge toll it's taken on my circadian rythm, it's also taken a toll on the time I get to spend with my family. All of my moms kids are finally living with her again. My oldest sister Alexandra, the middle sister Savannah, and me the youngest sister, Victoria.

I sit and chat with everyone in the living room for a while before I start getting dressed. I put on my bra, underwear, undershirt, shirt, pants, socks, beanie, belt, windbreaker, and shoes in that order. It's winter so I need layers. It's at this time every day that I wonder why I applied for this job. A security guard with crippling anxiety. I'm supposed to make people feel safe, to ensure the client that their property and or employees are secure. The pay is great considering. But when your job is to protect, who protects you?

•••

After I get home I take a shower, change into my pajamas and feed my cat. Everything feels like work lately, showering, eating, brushing my teeth. The small things that you're expected to do every day make my life feel meaningless. Whenever I talk to someone about this subject I always have to preface it with "I'm not suicidal". Don't get me wrong I would love to die, to not have to worry about a single thing and just be gone. No body to take care of, no people to please, no job to work, nothing... but death is the exact thing that scares me. Every single one of my anxieties are just another way I could die. I'm too scared to do it myself though so I'm just waiting... for life to be over I guess. I've never understood the appeal of life. For alot of people the goal is to have children, to be loved, to be happy. But none of that is realistic in the slightest. The reality of life is that if you're lucky enough to afford an education you spend years being forced to learn things that no one had the decency to ask if you had any interest in at all. Afterwards you're expected to learn even more useless subjects which cost even more money. Wether or not you choose to engage has no effect on the fact that if you're in the bottom seventy percent of the world's population than you'll spend your life working full time until you're sixty seven. If your even less fortunate, than you're apart of eighty five percent of the world's population that never retires. And in that case you work until your dead. Even if you're lucky enough to be happy or find love, which let's be real that's just something people believe in so they feel better about the pointlessness of it all, then let's say you have kids but even then you're just subjecting them to a life of work and hardship. You'll never find true love, you'll never go on some crazy adventure, you'll never find out that magic is real or our world is filled with supernatural beings. This is it, there's no secret to it. This is life, and life is the definition of work. That's why I hate it.

I turn off the lights and go to bed with relief because tomorrow is the last day I have to work before my days off.