Working Late Is The Worst

When 5:01 PM strikes, my body immediately gets sent into fight or flight. Synapses popping and the immune system starts wondering what the fuck is going on. I start sweating and crying a little bit at the same time. Basically what I'm trying to say is, every time I work late, part of me actually dies.

There's no worse feeling than seeing your coworkers walk by your desk with that, "..Damn" look on their face. Just a mixture of judgment and pity that you can't erase off your mind. It's like society picks a time to bottle up your swag and leaves you to your own devices. You, Microsoft Office and motherfucking Minesweeper against the God damn world. Kidding. There's no "Braveheart"-esque war rally to fall back on.

Time starts slowing down and you start developing phantom injuries. No lie, I was positive that I sprained my ankle while SITTING in my desk chair. Because I was alone, I was rolling around the rug writhing in fake ankle pain, completely oblivious to the fact that it was just my synapses trying to prevent me from living/dying. Not a good look when the entire purpose of staying late was getting shit done.

Needless to say, I'm in bed mode at fucking 10:30. A new career high (low) for me. Embarrassing. I'm growing up like a motherfucker.