I read for work. It sounds like a dream, right? While I honestly feel like I have no right to complain, it does get draining. There are times when I don’t even enjoy reading anymore because it’s all the same recycled plot, and I feel like my eyes are near bugging out from all the bullshit dialogues. There’s only so much Mary Sue heroines a girl can handle. Don’t even start with the I’m-an-asshole-and-I-have-issues-but-your-love-will-change-me hero because I might scream.
Like most jobs, I have good and bad days. On bad days, my boyfriend takes the brunt of all the moaning I do about how shitty things are. When complaining isn’t enough, a slice of pizza or two might make me forget. Often times, getting away from it all is the only cure.