the scapegoat factory

How do I go about this retelling of my past? Its been months since I last wrote about the happiness of working in a space where everything blossomed earnest. But that has since transformed into an ugliness I haven't been able to look past. I've heard conversations I shouldn't have been a part of. People calling each other friends and throwing dirt at the names they hold close. I guess that is how office politics function. Spaces like these thrive, people too, when they're so corporate. But what happens when you take away the corporate? You have individuals call you up without boundaries; at 2 AM to inform you if you don't show up on time the next day something will turn upside down. There's one thing that I have learnt is that not everything is urgent, nor is everything so important? How can I as a person be doing 17 things at once? All urgent. All important. All necessary by EOD. I will obviously never put myself into a situation like this again. I have given far too much time to people who just keep taking and don't give anything in return. No praise, nor appreciation. There's zero monetary benefit to take home even, everything is a favor. Everything is to be done for free. Give your time, your efforts, your soul into this; even your friends and family (if you can). Everything is just a number to you. 

Nowhere else does the industry function as a scapegoat factory like it does here. Oh, why is it that this edit isn't finished on time? Motherfucker. You didn't even give me a brief, am I a magician to you? Do you have no value for anybody's life or time except your own? Nobody even knows who the fuck you are except a bunch of adolescents whose life you feast on, I can ramble forever. I heard that conversation that the big SMALL three had, they spoke about themselves, me, every person who ever worked with them thinking I was in a drug-fuelled sleep. I heard every word so loud, it rung in my ear over and over. They don't see people as their contemporaries, just workers. Motherfucker if I didn't waste away months of my life trying to get your film made. You'd still be exactly where I left you. Prowling on some other person. 

 

I never was able to confide in any of you, my thoughts, because you never listened. I did. I heard every disgusting powerball you threw around thinking none sinked in; they all did. Always. I might not know every speck of a thought you have but I know your judgement compass. And its just to take advantage of whoever you can, for however long as you can because that's the way you've lived your life. Taking advantage of everyone to get them to fight for your weak ass cause. I was here because I believed in an idea. Albeit the idea was yours, but I executed it for you. Or you would never have had a film made. All on the bones, blood and sweat of a man who kept quiet while you just took and took more. I'm done being part of the scapegoat factory. I'm tired. I know what I want finally. Its just to distance myself from freaks such as yourselves. Now when I find more like you, I'll be sure to steer clear.

I wouldn't be sorry if you read this. But do tell me what you think.