A blow job

This is a blow job. Because it is a job that sucks.

Not to be ungrateful to my current source of living, but I just miss writing for the newspaper. I miss the rewarding feeling of a published story that carries an impact to the lives of many. I miss visiting islands, climbing hills, wading rivers for a story to be told. I miss talking to interesting characters--celebrities or commoners alike.

In my world now, I squeeze my brain to accomplish paperworks for a day and at the end of it nobody cares so much, because I'm paid anyway. I would find myself wandering after office hours, hosting a radio show, ghostwriting for the lazy, and meeting my newfound friends--probably in search for that satisfaction and meaning that I have been groping for.

I am paid. They bought me for a price. I was offered this job, I didn't even look for it. And I know there are throngs of people out there dying to land a job, but I am just starting to give up!

Because I feel insulted. This job has bought my ideas, my talent, my vision, my time, my influence when I could have used them more powerfully and not just for the interest of the few.

I wouldn't want to be a few digits richer and feel like I've lost my mind and my entire life altogether.

I am absent from work today, because I am sick. I really am sick.