I’ve always been fond of cats. It’s a kinship, I suppose, but one I cannot explain. Last Thursday, my cat Dexter was hit by a car on one of his trips outside – despite all my efforts, he didn’t want to be indoor cat. It was depressing for me, and I’m still expecting him to ninja trip me when I come out of my room in the mornings. I’m not looking for a new familiar just yet. Maybe after whatever I’m going through blows over.

Friday morning, I got dressed and ready for the orientation I was attending. The orientation was for a job a friend helped me get in the meanwhile. I hate not working and because a few of my “shortcomings,” work isn’t very easy for me to get. The orientation signified the first day of the job with [redacted], an electrical provider. Now [redacted] advised me that I should not openly state I was one of their employees because of something I blocked out. Hence, [redacted] is recognized as [redacted] and not [redacted].

Tomorrow’s my first day signing people up, however. I’ll be honest, I’m nervous as hell. I’ve always been bad with communicating with people. No matter how many times I’ve done it, I don’t feel comfortable approaching people. Missed connections and opportunities are good friends of mine. I’m hoping to chill the fuck out by tomorrow evening, because I need this job to last until I find a better one. Sales isn’t my strong point, but nothing really is.

I was going to say something meaningful, but this soul-crushing feeling is spilling over me. I rarely get attached to pets. Maybe it’s the series of events that have led to this post that’s bothering me. I’m tired of being a fuck up. I don’t know. Whatever.