My resume is a graveyard

The tombstone I have erected to grieve over the end of a blissfully ignorant professional life stands discolored in the snow. I hate the cold..but I dislike the trickery of the snow most of all. It’s deceptively beautiful in how it blankets the landscape. Until it melts into mud mixed into grime by human activity. I shiver as I think about how it settles solid mercilessly reflecting the glare of a sun. The hell of winter to shovel a safe path for bodies to move freely. Iron forged in something burnt alive. Back breaking effort to spare people from slips and falls and nasty ice….frozen solid over time. Like my optimism. Buried. Lost. Something dangerous. My resume is a graveyard of ambition, filled with the skeleton of broken promises and rejection. Listing place after place where anger was meted out by the walking dead. Archaic ways of doing things the way it’s always been done, angered by a generation’s differences. Co-workers are not your family, and very rarely have they even been friends. Typically, when you’re gone, perhaps only a handful remember your name…and maybe 1 or 2 keep in touch, but mostly your departure is akin to a death…Life simply moves on without you. Especially when the murderous guilt lays on their side. The lance that pierced an eager heart, buried deep. Awakening a motion towards another side.

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