Every morning I wake up with a secret fantasy: to call out of work and sleep in, but, alas, I get up and out the door before its even light out. What kind of life is this?
It first begins as a movement of the soul, mind and eventually spirit. Only after long, drawn out deliberation and confrontation does the once internal, now public, resistance have a chance of minimal survival. With acceptance comes disgust and with disgust comes immediate need for redemption, thus the revolution has begun.
The seeking is bitter alienation. It is humiliating, isolating and awkwardly uncomfortable, yet worth every bloody second.
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