After three years you'd think I'd know better. But I don't. I walk around saying, I have all the power. I have all the power. I have all the power. But I'm still here, not doing what I want to do, not living the life I wish I were living. Where is my disconnect? Some neuron deep in the folds mischarges. I'm frustrated and angry most days. I need out. I can't go on. But I am here, going on, as though I were fine, as though I were happy, as though this job didn't make me sick with self-loathing.