Dear Working 9-to-5, I’m Over You.

Let’s face it. We’ve never been on the same page. You scoffed at the many years I insisted on taking a mid-afternoon nap and staying up until 3 am. It worked for me. I was balanced, happy, motivated, and energized. You keep saying that i’m just getting older and that I have to play by your rules because it’s a part of becoming an adult. It’s not that simple and you know it. You’re trying to break me. I won’t let you. You and me both know that our passions and desires are what keep us awake at night. That energy is otherworldly and it comes from what were doing with our time and the people we surround ourselves with. Sure, age is a biological factor that effects our energy, but I’m 30 years old right now, not 60. I’m drained because you drained me. You put me in your tiresome box, hid the keys, and have no intention on telling me where they are.

You know that I tried to make it work. Shit, I’m still trying. We’ve been through more healthy and uplifting hobbies than I can count. At this point I’ve found the things that are most valueble to me. Between my friends, my wife, social dancing, board games, the occasional play/opera, a bit of travel, and eating delicious food, there’s not much else out there for me. The problem is you. You think you can devour 60 hours out of every single week and I’m supposed to just accept that. You don’t pay me enough. I’m barely talking about about money although it is a part of it. I’m talking about learning and growing and building upon myself. Your ROI is dismal. I give way to much and get way too little.

I doubt you put any effort into it at all. You just keep mindlessly spinning the wheels of American capitalism and expect me to enjoy the ride. Well I’m done. I refuse to feel guilty when you don’t get everything that you ask for. You don’t care about what I’m going through and I’m not interested in the direction you’re pushing me. You designed this sick game and I don’t want to play it anymore. I will create a new game, no matter how long it takes.

But here’s the unfortunate truth. I don’t have the courage to walk away instantly and completely. As bad as you are, I’m going to need time to transition. We will just have to be together like a depressingly unhappy married couple waiting for all their children to leave home for college. You should know that my plans are in motion. Our time together is short. You will miss me. I won’t miss you.

Painfully Yours,
Omari Akil


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