It’s 7:12 pm on Saturday night. I’m sitting at my desk, taking a moments break from work. I’m 22 years old, and I’ve come to the conclusion that about the only thing I’m good for these days is working. I don’t have to be working right now, but its all I know. No one told me to come into work. No one’s forcing me. But here I am trying to get things done.

As depressing as it sounds, its not all bad. Sure, people my age are out dating, having fun doing what ever it is they do. I’m completely clueless to this thing they do. But needless to say, working does have its advantages. Mostly the paycheck, which allows me to pay back my astronomical college debt and keep a roof above my head.

Ah, to hell with it. I’ve got work to do.