An awful kind of death bed

Young, passionate, and hopeful. But I found myself in a place where I struggled to find my purpose. 

I took a new job at 24. The past job’s trauma was still in me but I found the next a breath of air as the environment was less toxic than the former. I was idealistic, I must admit. Like other enthusiastic young people new to the system, I believed and adhered to the “I can change the world” cliche as I found the new workplace in drastic need of fixing. But fixing meant being burned out, treading through a whole lot of workplace political dilemmas, and motivating demotivated people. The most crushing was knowing that my standard was not met by people and that I had to micromanage even the tiniest detail. And the most dreading was pretending I liked some people in power when I despised them, literally. 

I would sit there staring at an article I haven’t finished as I try to squeeze out any motivation left in me. 

A zombie may be the appropriate word to describe those who just go through a daily monotonous routine. People I saw like that were gradually reflecting in me. 

I took my phone out and hurriedly typed a thought that just came out of nowhere:

“An awful kind of deathbed is a room full of people working 8-5 without purpose.”