What do I want to say?

I'm tired. I look at myself and see me going to work almost every day, forcing a smile and acting like a good extrovert, then I come home completely drained. I'm barely able to stand once I sit down, so I find myself hunched in front of my computer looking at mindless comics and worthless crap from the dregs of the Internet. I'd like to be more, do more, but it's fucking hard. As Jawbreaker comes on my playlist: "You're not punk, and I'm telling everyone..." I recall being drunk and seventeen (Thanks to Terry Pratchett for putting that synonym into my head.) I said to myself that I wouldn't be one of those mindless drones that do nothing with their life, I'd be a writer, or a rock star, or something else that tickled my fancy at the time. Now I'm thirty, I work in retail, and tell myself that I love my job. Rebellion and angst are dead to me. I do like my job though. It could definitely be better, and it is in many ways one of the best jobs I've ever had; but that's not really saying much. I despised being a cashier at a truck stop, I was not content sweeping floors at a building supply shop, union politics at the manufacturing plant disgusted me, and removing PC viruses from peoples computers had me disillusioned of the intelligence of my fellow humans. There are elements of everything I hate in my current job, but the ability to at least make people smile is a sharp counter balance that I've never experienced before.