14 horizons away

"Where we at?" I ask my frazzled looking co-worker, coming back in from a brief break in the alley out back. "Seven's new, check at eight, and refills at four" she tells me as I wash my hands and spray some cheap perfume in the air to mask the cigarette smoke. The small diner is crammed full of college kids, and larger than life machismo men, with their women and their children. I move quickly and effortlessly between the tables, filling each need as it arrises. It's just another day in this joint, slingin oversized burgers and chili cheese fries. I try to not hate my life. They say that the key to this life is to take it one day at a time. Sometimes I find that I need to take it one hour at a time, sometimes one minute at a time. I watch the moments slowly creep by awaiting the end of my shift. I try not to hate my life. The day closes and I leave with less money than I need to pay the bills, and another day of service beneath my belt. I need a meeting, and maybe a pint of ben and jerry's, these seem to be the only things holding me together these days. I inevitably drive home to feed the dogs and chain smoke in front of some garbage on the television. The problem with hating my life is that it's an inside job. I strive endlessly to be somewhere other than where I am and each endeavor leaves me just as empty as the last. Unfulfilled no matter what I do, what can I do but try not to hate my life. Apathy's an easier road anyway.Last week I turned thirty, an event which seems to have mercilessly flung me into a pit of existential turmoil. What is the point of anything? and why is every day such a struggle? and what could it all possibly mean? ugh. I try not to ask but the questions they won't abate and they fill me with this gaping void of dissatisfaction. I try to not hate my life. I try to care. I try to get up everyday and fight the good fight, but lately I'm overwhelmed by the imensity of it and I'm small and tired and craving a break in the battle, but peace of mind feels 14 horizons away.