An Amygdala
Published in

An Amygdala

If I Could Quit My Job All Over Again

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Every morning before my job, I would begrudgingly haul myself out of bed and get dressed. Since my office was located at a considerable distance, I would call a car.

As I waited, I would sit on the corner of my bed and let the hatred wash over me. I hated my job. I hated the commute. I hated most of my coworkers. The only thing I didn’t hate was the money, but that simply wasn’t enough to make me…

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