notsoterriblymisanthropic:

Hours spent looking at Indeed job search, flicking between tabs, checking your mate’s Facebook (“Just checked in at the hotel with the squad, loving Menorca! Tits and lines all round LMFAO!” – fuck off Tim you sad wanker) and getting lost in the latest #moralpanic on Twitter. Hours wasted trying to look for the delicate balance of what you’re vaguely qualified or experienced for and what you are willing to bother spending your waking life and energy performing. Though you know it won’t last, don’t you. If you actually cared about what it is you’re going to be doing, and not just the hourly rate then you wouldn’t be on fucking Indeed in the first place, would you?

You know you don’t really care, and for some reason that makes you feel bad. Is it guilt? Not quite guilt - anger. But with no line-manager to take it out on, you just end up angry at yourself.