Tired

Hey guys, recently I’ve been trying to grow my instagram account instead of applying to jobs. Not sure I’m using Instagram as an excuse to create art or if I’m creating art as an excuse to post on Instagram.

It’s not going terribly well, followers are climbing at a snail's pace, but despite that I find myself checking my phone frequently just so that I can occasionally see that heart button on the bottom bar notifying that I’ve gotten a like. More than ever I feel myself wanting some kind of recognition, to feel valuable in someone else’s eyes, and when I’m unemployed living at home isolated from my friends and classmates it feels like the only people I can turn to is the internet.

Anyway, this is a story about unemployment. I feel alone in this endeavor, though I know I’m not alone. We try to hide our failures because we can’t help but feel lesser for not having found something yet. Some of our friends were hired long before second semester started, some were uncertain until only weeks before graduation, the stragglers slowly trickled in their success via facebook posts over the summer, and as the seasons turn from hot to unpredictable, we are left and silent.

We stay silent for a variety of reasons, part of it is shame, part of it is there’s only so many times you can complain to your friends until your pain grows dull in their ears and numb in your own heart. We’ve probably tried a lot of things, applying online, asking our acquaintances to hand in resumes, going to industry events, emailing alumni, grinding our faces into our tempurpedic pillow as we scream profanities. And even though we know the paths we’ve chosen is difficult and has fewer jobs, there’s really only so many times you can finish the rare phone interview only to have the trail go cold before you start wondering ‘is there something wrong with me.’ It’s gotten to the point where I’ll just assume that won’t get the job even when the conversation goes well.

I wish I could offer you words of consolation, and tell you that everything will be okay. I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy the hell of a indefinite job hunt. But I don’t know, I don’t know for myself, I don’t want to give you kind but empty promises because you, like me, are tired.

For me what would give me a little solace would be if we could somehow get together and communicate, because I’m tired of keeping this shit to myself, and maybe you're tired too.