this morning #255.

this morning, mother knew best & could clearly attest that he wasn’t cut out for this shit. he never really had been despite all his attempts to come to terms with the way things were. as the son of a lifelong factory worker, he was no stranger to putting in the work but he’d begun to question whether those efforts actually worked. lying face down in his bed trying to convince himself to get up, he was awash in visions. swirling visions of handing over another eight hours of his day to a boss whose default setting was “you did it wrong.” if there was one thing he was doing wrong, it was expecting to gain purpose from his profession.