First World Problems

I can’t afford a cleaner or a gardener but I’m too busy to do cleaning or gardening.

My career is based on a fictional social construct and has provided me a set of non-transferable ‘skills’ which would render me completely pointless in the event of an apocalyptic return to the old days.

Skills I would not bring to the table in a post-apocalypse world:
Building anything
Fixing anything
Farming or knowledge of edible plants
Butchery of any animal including fish

(but I could write a kick ass press release if anyone had a pencil)*

My colleagues are banality personified.

The news is dominated by sadness, stupidity and corruption.

My laptop turns itself off if it’s unplugged.

I can’t afford to keep going to hen parties, baby showers and weddings, they are bankrupting me and mean I haven’t been on a non-wedding related holiday for 6 years.

I wake up tired every day and half wish I hadn’t.

The clock on my oven is garish.

I don’t know why I do what I do or if it makes me happy because I’ve never had a real ambition.

Anxiety is making me grind my teeth at night so all my fillings have fallen out.

Elsewhere, seemingly everywhere, the increasing gap between rich and poor is causing incalculable levels of suffering.

I am on the wrong side of that gap.

I don’t understand Yoga.

I want to have children because I believe it would be a deeply fulfilling and profound human experience, but I don’t really believe the human race will survive until it’s old enough to feel like I do now.

Gender as a construct feels redundant… also I don’t understand transgender and how it relates to me as a woman or to women in society. I don’t know what CIS means and I don’t understand what is polite / correct / real / relevant anymore.

I haven’t been out of my overdraft since 2009.

My new kitchen floor squeaks when we walk on it.

I am scared and alone and powerless to help anyone including myself.

My favourite jeans don’t fit.



* it would be a mediocre press release.






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