486 – Itch

–Damm, damn, damn, SHIT!

–You’re cursing again.

–I fucking KNOW I’m cursing!

–No need to shout, you know?

–Its shouting or throwing the bloody computer, and maybe the whole stupid desk, thru the window.

–Please don’t. I just planted spring onions and garlic under it.

–Har-de-har-har.

–You know? It might be easier if you just talked about what’s bothering you.

–Oh… I don’t know. Feeling trapped in a job I no longer enjoy… Seeing all the people I was supposed follow as role-models turn out to be just somewhat more educated pieces of abusive shit… living in a world where intelligence, honesty and basic human decency are seen as something to be ashamed of?

–That’s a lot to handle alone.

–I know. It’s like one of those fucking itches right in that spot on your back you just can’t scratch. I feel like I’m burning out.

–Maybe you just need to stop trying so hard to scratch?

–I don’t know how.

–You can always ask for help.

–Anything?

–Anything.

–Just hold me tight, ok?

–Come here, dummy.