Written with one eye on the clock and the other on the nearest coping mechanism.
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I’m so bored it feels like my insides are turning outwards. I’ve been improving at work. That’s the frustrating part. Every day, I’m more efficient, more precise, more capable. Yet, I’ve never felt more hollow.
I’m so bored I can feel it in my bones. The kind of boredom that makes your body feel like a costume you forgot to take off. My job has become a silent performance. My boss stands too close, hovers too often, and turns every task into a goddamn TED Talk about effort and optimization.
This is a fucking day job.
None of my peers have this kind of suffocating dynamic with their bosses. When they make a mistake or miss a detail, I bet no one’s breathing down their necks 24/7. The pressure to make every minute count is constant. To do better. To be better. To never stop improving.
It’s suffocating.
The better I get, the deeper this hole inside me grows. Because no matter how well I do, it never feels like enough. Nothing I do feels like it matters. All I can focus on is how it could’ve been better. I don’t see what I’ve done. I only see what I could have done more. And I’m tired of understanding him. I’m tired of knowing it’s his first time managing someone, that I’m his first employee, that he’s also working too much.
I don’t fucking care.
I don’t care. I’m bored and beyond tired. My mind is numb. The work feels meaningless. Every “well done” feels like a prelude to a “but” even if it isn’t.
It’s soul-crushing.
And perhaps I’m doing everything right. Perhaps I’m becoming more capable. More efficient. More polished. But at what cost?
The hypothetical version that could’ve existed if only I were a little faster, a little smarter, a little more like a machine, crushes me. The constant push to do more, be more, achieve more kills the part of you that once found meaning in doing anything at all.
So yeah, in terms of my job, I’m getting better every day. But if the hole inside me is getting bigger, what’s the point?
I just want silent mornings.
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You might also enjoy my another burn out piece I am slow, explain to me what we are rushing toward.