Sometimes I think I am like a dungenous crab. I have a really hard outer layer; sometimes it might even hurt for a second to touch me if you hit me on my thorny part. But if you get the right tools to crack me, I can be cracked pretty easily and inside you find a nice succulent piece of meat that you can't get enough of.
The problem is a lot of people don't know the right tools to crack me. You can't crack a dungeous crab with a butter knife. You don't always have to be so gentle. Sometimes I need to be kicked in the ass. But you also can't crack me with a rock. I mean you can, but then when you do, you will make a big mess. Meaning, don't try to get to know me by putting me down and being too tough. It won't work.
Today, on the way to work, I cried. Why? Because two ambulances passed me and when I finally caught up, found out that they were stopping for a homeless man who I think was dead. And it made me sad. And it makes me sad that I have to drive by this everyday. And that I have to work for such a sad cause. And that I have to pass such saddness on the way to my sad cause.
I want a job where I can wear jeans and bring my dog. And laugh and make money. And go home. I don't want to cry on the way to work.