Is that all there is?
I'm in wooden canoe sliding down perfect green grass
riding the little uneven dips
yet rolling down smoothly
but the tide comes in
when we're nowhere near the coast
but hey-** that's what the canoe's built for
the tide pushes us down mountainous sliding terrain
my back aches and my mouth is dry from screaming
my fingers tightly ache
this can't be it
all that remains is me and this hideous keyboard
typing out things that never make sense
i cannot understand what i am fighting for
what dinosaur is after me
I'm a caveman with a fully stocked fridge and roof over my head
the survival instincts are alive and well
and yet...
I've achieved everything but nothing at all
I have nothing to show for it
Just a desperate desire to not be wrong again
Not to disappoint people anymore
And be a friend worth having
No way that's it
a too-eventful childhood and adolescence, a politician's scheduled teenagedom and a painfully mediocre twenties
health and wellbeing sacrificed just for a bachelor's
failure after failure in a master's
all to just have one 'unsuccessful' after another in my inbox
and endless promises to my family that I am unable to make good
I thought my people pleasing could at least land me a retail job
but here I am, leading the blind
at the cusp of sitting the hardest exam I'll ever do
and physically and emotionally dead inside
the law I fell in love with
the freedom of learning
my brain's hemispheres turning on their sides and the rainbow eclipsing them
taught me to fight even with endless red tape
there's always something more
only to end up with the door slammed in my face everywhere I turn
I am worse off than I started
the only difference is the stakes are higher
and with every birthday I am too old to not be financially independent
with every birthday comes theirs
and I cannot take anymore
we are all getting old now
I don't know what I like or who I am anymore
I am eternally lost
and I don't know how to write anymore
maybe I missed the boat
I rolled down the hill when I should've walked
that's all there is

I learned lessons that I hated.
I thought thoughts I didn’t want to repent for.
I cried over molehills I turned into mountains.
I was accused of things that weren’t my fault.
I loathe coming to this place of Hell everyday.
Dealing with strangers and their attitudes.
I don’t want to smile in their faces for another day.
I kick myself for accepting this job offer.

I
have
had
enough.

All of this for a job?
For a place that would replace me like ***** underwear?
For a place where I’m merely a number?

No, not a worker.

What loyalty do I owe to them?
I ain’t happy.
It’s been that way for a while.
They know I ain’t happy.
So what if I choose to leave?
I’ll be doing myself a much needed favor.

Let me slap down this edited two weeks notice on my manager’s desk.
And tell her I’ll never come back again.
I’ll happily do an exit interview and finally say my burning words of fury.
What I gotta lose then?
I gotta go and I’m **** happy.
Keep this job and work it yourself to see how I feel.

I’ll be just fine in my new place of employment.
I may not have been the best worker,
But don’t say I wasn’t a good one.
I dealt with more and I’m not even in your position.
Don’t be shocked.
You know good and well this day was coming.

Have fun!

© 2021 Mia J

leaves bleed in the water
a small sip to check if it's
pleasing to taste
leave the cup alone
as I apply for jobs

Here I am 5 years later.

I’m asleep but I dream about the stress of a job that I dreamed of years prior. I cry over a job that I once cried in passion for. I think about the job just as much as I did those years ago, but for different reasons.

Today is an exact reflection of what you were thinking five years ago, someone said to me. It was all a thought you had five years ago. It made me happy, yes- emotional, too. But I wonder how much of that emotion was indeed for my accomplishments in that time frame. Did I feel unsettled, like I had seen the accumulation of five years of seemingly wasted efforts?

But I love my job, I tell myself. This is who you were meant to be, others tell me.

Do I exaggerate as I write this? Surely.
but that small voice I’ve been burying seems to be finding some confidence as of late. Or maybe it has always been there, just growing concerned for me?

It’s okay, I’ll figure it out.

How long do we get?
How many can we fit inside?
I reply like it's the first time
Gotta take pride

Have my ******* jokes
It makes them laugh
"Mind you're rowlocks" when you step inside lad's.
Watch out for the crocodiles, they escaped from the zoo.
Just over the side
If you need the loo.

Lookout for the terrapins
I can tell you think it's a joke
But it's true
Don't believe me?
I'll show a picture to you

Where did they come from?
During the winter, where do they go?
Never answer
"I don't know"

I've held many positions
From the bottom to the top
Some good
Some bad
They kept me a float
But never been happier
Helping people, inside a boat

Many hats on my head,
Many titles to claim,
I find it fulfilling to be,
Everything that motivates me.

One day I’m a fireman,
Another day I am a jailer,
This day I’m a poet,
Tomorrow I’ll be a mailer.

What’s funny is this,
A name and a shield,
Is merely a buck for a meal,
My ignorance is so bliss.

These paths are not me,
They are merely a guide,
For me to find whomever is me,
On a security guard’s salary.

To make films or to weep,
To keep jails or to sleep,
To fight fires or to leap,
Into this pen of little sheep.

Why is it that I,
Aim to be that guy,
Who’s career should imply,
That I’m “something” till I die?

An artist,
An actor,
An experiment of all factors,
I try hard to be somebody,
When I’m already my own everybody.

I’m exactly what I need to be,
In this world of all these faces,
Masks grow tight around these cheeks,
Why aspire to climb mountains,
And reach such heightening places?

I’m a detective one day,
An electrician by night,
A silly little dreamer,
Always ready to take on flight.

I’ll pilot this aircraft,
And spread my wings a’sailing,
Without prejudice or hesitation,
I may not always succeed,
But I’m never failing.

A loser is someone who wakes up to an alarm
& drives to a place they hate doing things around people they hate
for multiple hours a day
to only make a pittance and live a sub standard life after the fact.
It's better to withdraw;
I've been the loser countless times before, but you can't lose at something you don't even choose to engage in

& They made it easy
when doing nothing feels like a revolutionary act
I no longer care what happens
1,000,000 years of human evolution & survival & they have us
so afraid

I sat there in the wooden office chair
My boss sits across from me
A dark wooden desk sits between us

Outside the window
The buzzing of drones serving the queen
Thoughtlessly focused on their tasks

My boss snaps me back
Another warning on my “productivity”
Maybe this time I’ll shape up

Bees leave to find flowers
But they are never far from the hive
They are shackled with a purpose to the whole

I sit in my car just before leaving for home
My wrists and neck stiff from another day's worth of tasks
I’ll be back here tomorrow
And the next day

I want this life to read like an intricate novel. I don’t want to keep sitting at a computer all day while the romance of life slips through my arthritic fingers. They are meant to write beautiful prose that flow over our souls and cover them with golden warmth.

Yet they are tippy-tappy typing away at exhausting, unimaginative emails with signatures like “warmest regards” to cover how calloused my heart has become.

Sitting in this comfortable space behind a giant screen where nothing can hurt me is crippling.  We were meant to embrace the love this earth holds us in. We are supposed to bathe in rivers, meet strangers in different cities, and learn to fall. My knees should have scrapes, my elbows bruised from stumbles I take on dirt roads and motorbikes.

While my bones are intact, my life is what is breaking.