What Good Does Complaining Even Do?

Another tiring day, it isn’t even noon yet.

As I prepare for today’s shift to end.

Will the restaurant suddenly decide to close, and I get my unexpected day off?

I’m getting ready for a job that I feel I’m not good at, a job that I feel doesn’t suit me.

A job that drains me.

During my commute, I’m back to making mental gratitude journals, trying my hardest to count the things I’m thankful for.

I hit a roadblock after all this mental sprinting.

“If I have this much time worrying and complaining why not just sit down and write it out?”

In my mind, I light a candle, express my thankfulness. In comes the worries, the pessimism and blows the fire away.

But moving around while doing all the worrying (going to work, writing blog posts) is also pushing me a bit.

In the end, I am okay.

Complaining about my job means I have a job.

Just by looking at the definition, the word fills with annoyance

It’s a luxury.

Wow, now I feel fancy.

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