two lines of dialogue

So what do you do?

[What do I do? What do I do? I overthink, that’s what I do; I worry; I get self-conscious; I judge too much; I try to be ‘in the moment’ and inevitably fail; I let hypothesis get the better of me; I try and be the best me I can and sometimes I nearly get there, like it’s tangible but I fall short and I see myself falling short and the me I see slips away; I allow stupid little things to get to me like awkward little moments that might have been avoided if only I were just a little nicer, a little more attentive, a little calmer; I remember some awkward little moments from years ago and still cringe; I admonish myself; I use overly-complex words; I listen to music; I replay fragments of memories from months and years ago and I get surprised at how vivid and real they still seem; I remember friends from years ago and feel sad that they’re strangers to me now; I cross the street to avoid any kind of conflict, be it with homeless people, not-quite-friends, fundraisers etc and I curse myself and my spinelessness and I resolve to be better next time, to look people in the eye, to address people and their challenges directly and respectfully but I never ever do; I go to work unwillingly; I rest despairingly thinking I should be more productive; I dream and I suffer for it; I find successful people intimidating; I find creative people also intimidating; I consider both successful and creative people a different breed, as if they operate on some higher echelon of cerebral and public existence; I let myself get really pissed off at noises but only certain kinds of noise; I become a shell of myself when things get too real and I escape behind THC and pixels and absence; I get lonely so I go out in public and when I’m in public I just want to be on my own; I try to be myself but I’ve been trying for so long I don’t really know who myself is in these situations; I feel inadequate; I worry I don’t read enough; I worry I’m not emotional enough; I worry I don’t watch enough good films; I worry I’m too old for my dreams; I go on Wikipedia pages of people I admire thinking how successful they were at my age; I forget way too many things; I remember way too much useless shit; I laugh and really treasure the moments when someone else laughs with me; I try to encapsulate good moments, calm moments, pretty scenes and chance encounters but despair at the fact they’ll end up forgotten, glazed over, rendered lifeless and steamrollered by the past; I try — and I’m trying, sometimes I think I’m there but other times — to think less about myself and more about us and about you; so what is it that you do, what is it that you really do, that you really, really do?]

Oh, I work in sales.