Work has been a bit more difficult than before. The pressure's building, and I've rushed to the ladies' room for my fair share of anger management and tear duct control. Sometimes I don't even get to the ladies' room before I break.
Nearly two months later, not much has changed. I'm still at the edge of my seat, failing miserably here and there, messing up great plans, missing out really good opportunities. I'm beginning to wonder if I'm right for this job, this industry. Because I can't seem to get it right.
For a change, I want to come home and feel like I've done something beyond mediocre. And I'm tired of making the excuse of being young and new in here. Because if so, I wonder how long I will have to hold back the pent-up frustration and tears til I grow up right.
Just this morning, I was thinking, as I was trudging my way to the elevator -- if I should really be here. Maybe I could be doing really good work in some other field, like illustration or publishing, which I enjoy as much as I enjoy this one. Except maybe I could go beyond good enough there and do real great work.
Hayyy. I'm a mess.
