I don’t know how I survived having a job for 6 months. I really don’t. Quitting was regrettable but I’m also glad I don’t have to be in public all the time anymore. But since then.. it’s like it became harder to do those things. I leave the house about once a week, sometimes once every two weeks. I don’t go outside for more than 2 minutes to take out the trash the few times that I do. When I do go into public now I sweat buckets and rub my hands all over my neck and wring my clothes out of anxiety. I bet I look stupid.

This job search makes me feel like such a useless human being. Like, I can’t get any job that I’d find even remotely fulfilling. Maybe this is the universe telling me that I’m not allowed to be happy.

Like, I applied for a “taste taster” position because it would be stupid, but at least I’d be tasting stuff, so that’s something. And they said that position is filled, offering me a job filling bags with coffee. But a job’s a job, right.

I just want to be an editor.