Repetition is the act of something being repeated. Like this pattern above. Squares, circles and triangles being repeated seemingly infinitely. As I look at the pattern I think of my job. Box after countless box being sorted. Endless repetition. It’s monotonous. Especially when an entire semi-trailer is going to the same location. You stand in one spot for an hour and throw box after box onto a conveyor belt. The only thing that breaks the monotony is when boxes jam and pile up and everything is thrown into disorder. And I stand there and wonder why in the world I’m doing this. Working this hard, breaking my back and arms for not that much money. Because I have to. I’m grateful I have a job. But it feels so meaningless. Especially as the guy standing next to you, the one that’s been there for years, says “F*cking new people…They work so hard, thinking they can make a difference. They’re f*cking idiots.” Or the guy that tells you not to stay here because it will make you crazy, as he goes on to get in a screaming match with an unloader. But it’s a job that has to be done, and I need money. And there are countless other jobs being worked by countless other people just like me. Day after day after day.
Remember how I said everyone is an asshole. Well that applies to life too. Life itself is an asshole. It always seems like there’s something. There’s always something dragging you down. As soon as something good happens, something bad happens. Life kicks you in the balls, laughs in your face and then keeps kicking. Sorry if it sounds pessimistic, but it’s the truth. Life just piles and piles up on top of you, slowly crushing until you can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t do anything. Life, work, school, tests, grades, assignments, relationships. You get depressed, paralysed. Bad thoughts creep in. Thoughts of ending things. You don’t care if you’re alive or not. Everything seems insignificant. You just want to sleep and not wake up. You want to pass out just so things will stop for awhile. I and many others have felt this and thought these things. And it pisses me off. I guess I know I’m a little better because I’m angry. I feel something at least. I’m furious that life is this way. That life does this to people. That life tears you apart and then expects you to keep going like nothing happened. It’s not right. I’m furious and I want to punch life in the face. I want to fight back, but really what can I do? Nothing. So we stand up, brush the dirt off, and keep going, pretending that everything is okay and that we can do this.