RAW - Just another Today

A splitting headache is lurking along the precipices of my brain, scratching the walls of my numb gray mass as if trying to scold me for drinking on a work day. Keep on scratchin', I ain't giving in to straight life.
I had only four hours of sleep, and the night before that as well, and tonight also doesn't look promising. "You'll sleep when you're dead", my best friends said.
But the thing is, the dead don't sleep. They're just dead. And I don't plan dying anytime soon - or ever, if it's possible. Dying is for pussies.
I prefer resting with a comfy lover, preferably after a good tumble, even if it's only for two hours. It sure beats seven hours of sleeping alone. Quality over quantity, I say.

"Bad girl, drunk by 6, kissing someone else's lips, smokes too many cigarettes a day, I'm not happy when I act this way..."
Madonna's single decent song in her entire career.
Am I happy?
I don't really know anymore. Pain and pleasure and ache and serenity all mushed into one. Is this how it feels to get old? Or is it just being aware? More or less, it's probably the same thing.

I hate the joint in my workplace. Toilet seats are cracked and they pinch my thighs like a bitch every time I forget to place my hands underneath. As if dealing with hemorrhoids isn't nasty enough. And taking a dump while sporting a hangover is fun all the more...and all that while listening the chatter of airheaded broads who believe they grabbed God by the nuts, coming every day to their polluted offices and relieving themselves in a crapper unworthy of a filthiest bar. If I had finished law school and came working in this place, I'd be bloody embarrassed.
Fucking Hall of justice. Ha. The irony isn't even funny anymore.

Seriously, what's wrong with these people? They can't even say to the bus driver that AC isn't working, or on the contrary, that it's freezing their limbs off. They'd rather choke than open the fucking window. They'll kill each other just to get their asses on the seat. They're lazy and moldy, but on the other hand, they work with unyielding fervor for ridiculous wages. They'd rather cry and mourn over their fate than actually do something about it. They maintain their blind faith, go to corrupted churches and follow stale, self-destructive rules, even though they're sinking in shit deeper and deeper with every passing minute of every new day. And of course, they're always good to take out their accumulated anger on someone who doesn't have anything to do with it.

Yeah, this is where we live. So don't ask yourself why I write in English; Serbian doesn't make sense anymore.

So here I am, typing this crap when I'm supposed to be working, but I think it's clear where true motivation lies. I'm not a fucking machine.