The shitty pay, the inferno of a commute to work, work itself, the simple idiocies that are nibbling at his ear. This should be all fucking worth it. Everything should be worth it. Rinse and repeat was once his better mottos. If it was that easy, he shouldn't worry about doing it again and again and again, especially if he was that good. What a sweet deal, doing things easy and quick. Doing them smooth and slick. Now, shit was thicker than ever. He is just talentless and has a bloated ego. What great fucking news.
It was a realization that has just stuck him. He was out of that grave but was hoisted back out just to be thrown into a deeper shithole. That deep coy was too thick to be seen through, it was clever. Hide that fucking tree in a fucking forest in a fucking planet of forests. Or so it seemed at first, e'rything was just a big blur to him now.
To understand all the fucks that he does and doesn't give, it would a whirlwind of a story. The expletives are just overflowing. He needs to sign up for another session, that should be the coup de grace.
The only respite was that image of a tiny hand, a little something from the past that told him to dive into that same pit of shit in the first place."