three times a week

It's a project about work and the minutes I count each week on the journey of coping with it and trying to persist in an oddly structured organisation where everyone

is the same colour as the carpet [including me].

«« i work to study, not the other way around. i don't study to work rn »»



also just dump. i get good reviews at work for what i do but just do the least. my focus is on other things in life so i try not to use my full potential at work. i do what i have to. i dont get paid enough to really use my full brain potential. but the 8 hours still gets me tired even if i dont use 100% of my energy. sometimes i start to think that it would be easier to put in a lot of effort energywise but i dont think they deserve it with the low salary they pay me.
work swallowed me,

and then work swallowed me, it kept me away from starting to keep away from this place. instead of going home after work and looking for other places to work or thinking about dream i use the money i earn now on cappucinos to forget what happened on the day



<-

it fucking swallowed me , , and yeah..... pls swallow meeeee so i dont have to think and can just forget, do it pls., do it hard and do it soon, do it slow &polite so i can feeel your tongue and your throat, and your slime; your everything... stick me trough your
watering mouth eat me up and afterwards dont ever let me come back to life, just let me sit there till i die the second but real death:::: forever, ever and everrrererer.
Nothing breaks like heart but apriori you dont break it if it isnt there anymore but on the desk <3 whinning until you run away and hold it tight to with your right hand to the left chest ,like a football

-ää---- ---
-
-
--asdasd -as-d-asd-


«« i work to study, not the other way around. i don't study to work rn »» 


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      +-             #+####+             -++#-                  +###+
        +-           #+   #+-                 -##-         #####++
         .+-        +#     ++-                   #+   -#+####+
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                                             .

«« i work to study, not the other way around. i don't study to work rn »»

«« i work to study, not the other way around. i don't study to work rn »»

«« i FUCKING WORK TO STUDY, TO STUDY; TO FUCKING STUDY. i don't study to work RIGHT NOW »»

and then fuck i come home and i am done.
i thought my body would adjust to 8 hours work and
would be able to mobilize some energy from somewhere, my thoughts armed to the teeth walk from organ to organ, cell to cell and proclaims: "everybody, we together, we supply energy. everybody, we together, we supply energy."
and again, work brought me back to my past [read as with 18] thoughts about the trennung (separation) between body and mind; didn’t i try to dissect this problem and reform both parts to one like 10 years ago. here we go again: there is only one, one one one…. fuck and back at it.
need food, then sport somewhere, and where are my friends, fuck i also need to go to bed in 1h and need food for lunch tomorrow, and the supermarket closed already, so where to get the food from, i think i need to buy something from the shops.

so i let myself down, concentrate, i concentrate on the to-do's with a due date. not the wishes. not the dreams. and forget them,

what is this solitude and emptyness when everything with an annotated date is done; overwritten; replaced by a drawing of a 3 year old.


cute italic <3 all i can think of is my heart, but same as me i it nauseate. i cant fell it. i need something i need to cry about so i can feel myself again. maybe a war, a ridicules unfair war, dying people but still. Looking at images of people loosing their homes to bombs, that replace their know places to a dirt field of puzzle pieces, covered in dust and dirt. i cant feel it. i know i can but i dont feel. So sport, maybe. give it my best, trying to overcome my own nausea by bringing my body to 171bpm and actually a body-nausea. i cant feel my legs anymore they feel like somebody has slept on them for hours, i feel like i cant feel my testicles, they feel like running through nebel wet fog, so i see the silhouette of them, or rather i feel the silhouette of them but not the soldi parts the stuff inside. I stop, covered in sweet I shower. and now i feel my back, it feels soft, like the softest thing i have felt recently and there is somekind of thing i was looking for i got it i got it i got it.

organisation, tickets, what do you do after you finished what i told you to do, priority's, some boards but just a software - -> - - -> - - -> - - -> - - -> <- - - o o o o o low ahhh whatever ^ showstoper
what does this even mean - - -> ?

actually i think to myself i am not angry enough to continue with this project atm, actually no emotions anyway, so what is there to write, what is there to tell, what is there to cope with, well still everything. i just got used to it. to the chaos, to the not doing, to the feeling of "to stop it until u start again", do 90% and stop again. secret: if you stop right before you have to tackle the last bits you can start at 50% again, its like magic, its like no organisation, its like this shit is even more useless than initially thought, than initially bespoken, my anger is not going anyway or so - - - - - -> and what does this mean now? what should be the consequence; to reanger myself?

one of the things i enjoyed about my workplace was that from the moment i leave my desk at work i forget that i work there. my batch to open the door turns invisible. that is really good, it feels great to forget it all and do life, leave the sorrows behind, the things you forget to do, the things that could go wrong, the things u did or u have taken responsibility for. especially those parts that are not included in your job description, and you dont get paid for.

leave it
leave it all the way, drown it in a big river on a gray, stormy, rainy day

problem is now that some things fly around and nobody wants to grab them, nobody wants to be responsible for the outcome that could possibly get produced in some future. so they linger around in space, hand in hand with their responsiblity dancing on their feet, attached to their neck, like a shiny neckless

and then work swallowed me, it kept me away from starting to keep away from this place. instead of going home after work and looking for other places to work or thinking about dream i use the money i earn now on cappucinos to forget what happened on the day

- -> - - -> - - -> - - -> - - -> - - - -> what does this mean <- - - - o - - -> ?

- -> - - -> - - -> - - -> - - -> what does ???? this <- - - - o - - -> ????

- -> - - -> - - -> what does this even fucking mean <- - - - o - - -> ?

and then work swallowed me, it kept me away from starting to keep away from this place. instead of going home after work and looking for other places to work or thinking about dream i use the money i earn now on cappucinos to forget what happened on the day

«« i work to study, not the other way around. i don't study to work rn »»

one of the things i enjoyed about my workplace was that from the moment i leave my desk at work i forget that i work there. my batch to open the door turns invisible. that is really good, it feels great to forget it all and do life, leave the sorrows behind, the things you forget to do, the things that could go wrong, the things u did or u have taken responsibility for. especially those parts that are not included in your job description, and you dont get paid for.

leave it
leave it all the way, drown it in a big river on a gray, stormy, rainy day

problem is now that some things fly around and nobody wants to grab them, nobody wants to be responsible for the outcome that could possibly get produced in some future, they linger around in space, hand in hand with their responsibility dancing on their feet, attached to their neck, like a shiny neckless, i tend to grab them and keep them close to my heart. even thought i dont get paid for it, i dont want to organise work i am not qualified to do it. even more so when you know that this job is just a job, how me make our revenue is more or less invisible to me, mainly because i decide every now and then to not look to closely on what is being done in those room, and overhere about what products the people talk about. in our specialized world is this more easy, what the fuck is memory foam and i dont care for what you could use it...