Shamelessly ripping off Brief interviews with hideous men's format

"Commiserate with me Father for I continue to exist. Well, it has been, what, 2 weeks since my last confession? I have worked roughly 130 hours in those 2 weeks. I only mention this because today I found out exactly how cacklingly naïve I’ve been. I believed that I was working towards a thing. AHAHAHAHAH. My idea of hell falls squarely in the Sisyphean category. I am sure they will add the eagles soon. …. Sorry Father, I guess it IS more akin to purgatory. The proliferation of spreadsheets suggests a god’s presence. One of those nasty ones, like a goat licking one who eats unsalted babies. I don’t suppose you know if that one is the sole god of/for (?) accountants? ….. I will try harder to figure out prepositions and/or grammar/and or punctuation. ….. Sorry, Father. This time I will. Really. So…it turns out that cold brewed coffee tastes like cooldrink and if you drink it for hydration and eat diet pills for sustenance your chest feels funny and even Ambien (of the very many wasted “read” chapters) has a bit of trouble balancing out the “up” part of uppers. …. Sorry Father but since I no longer sleep with whomever I fancy I must find my spinning cylinder clicks somewhere else. Did you know that Michelle McNamara had the standard working American woman’s chemical diet in her blood when she died? Adderall for breakfast and Ambien and wine for dinner. Speaking of which (the sex bits not the suicide ideation or pointless bit of trivia) I am listening to Esther Perel’s sermons on modern marriage and will hopefully get back on the Alain de Botton when I am done with finding out how horrible infidelity is and how unrealistic modern marriage. This sound like I am contemplating the one and agreeing with the other, but I am not. Mind you, neither is she. Funny, moving, wry and just far enough from actual self-knowledge that it is comfortable. No truly deep realizations in the daily commute other than the one where thinking and repeatedly telling Him his ex is a fucking snake does not mean I get to have any control about their communication. …. Not the reptile, those are fine and not like the biblical one either. A fucking ouroboros of ego-shoring-up that is mostly found in romantic/sexual attention seeking and cruelty to dessert forks. …. No, Father. I have never been soul hungry like that which leads me to easily identify! NU UH. Sorry Father. I know I become what I vehemently deny being. I’m not a racist/narcissist/sexist but… …. Yes, Father. I am ok. I briefly tried to find meaning in corporate life and for a few weeks there it was lovely. I didn’t have to deal with me at all.  .... Suburban white woman problems, indeed. …. Thank you for the 50 “NOT. ALLOWED.TO.STAB.MOTHERFUCKERS.IN.THE.THROAT.WITH.CHEAP.FOUNTAIN PENS.” .... And with your spirit" ReplyForward