Irony:
I have two jobs. The first one is where I convince other people to keep and cherish one of the things I want most in the world: I struggle to be loving and non-judgemental in the face of those who would blithely destroy what I would die for.
The second job? I stand apart, behind a small piece of glass, and record the glad times of others. I am an invisible voyeur, a stalker of joy. No one will ever know I was there and yet it is my hand, my eye, that records and displays your happy moments.
I live my life on the coat tails of others.
How am I supposed to feel about that?
No comments:
Post a Comment