Grovelling.
Toiling.
Yearning.
Am I still hoping?
I almost had it.
I once had it.
I might have it.
Will I have it?
Thus goes the flow of life.
My life.
My existence seems wasted.
My soul is withering in this barren desert, devoid of hope.
I am now just a dried out discarded husk.
I am too old for this profession.
I don’t have enough work experience for that job offer.
I have too many diplomas for this job.
Where, oh, where is my place?
Where is my niche, my sweet spot?
Where is my slot?
Where can I cast my anchor?
How long will I drift in this barren, cold, cruel, tundra, the wilderness of joblessness?
Please do tell me when this torture ends!