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Afterthough

It's 24 hours after the day I was fired from a job I loved and thought that same love would flourish into a beautiful selling machine that would rise through the ranks and finally be "home". I was wrong, and in turn I was heartbroken and unsurprisingly still am. I project I calm, cool, collected lifestyle all the same. Transparently that really is how I'm processing this charade, partially. It's not foreign for me to think of getting back at anyone who in my eyes displays injustice, and in this case it's exactly the painting my imagination is creating.


I was uprooted from my work not because of performance or laziness, rather a breadcrumb basket of deceptive tales aiming at my character and behavior in an office environment. Not taking seriously how I show my badge to the same person I see daily to taking one too many snacks and drinks. The fact of the matter is if this was accurate and consistent I'd be 100% with them on my termination. Problem is it was 50% accurate and absolutely not consistent since after each incident I annexed each poor behavior that netted a worse result. I realize I'm a gone with the wind kind of guy as in I look forward not back, but the pain I feel for a promising future there at Crowdstrike that was murdered in cold blood I can't help but think I'll be back for you, you who conspired with the department that handles exiting employees. Mostly for valid reasons, this time for bullshit.


I tak accountability for messing up, indeed I'm more prone to mistakes than a coyote who chases a road runner. But I also fix them and I've nevere repeated the same action twice, which is why they made sure to take each individual slip up and create a portfolio to get me out. Well done I guess, but this ain't my first heartbreak and I don't keel over easy.


Luckily for me since I can write these emotions out I can also plan for my future. And I will hold myself to it, in my head I quoted saying as long as I have a pen, paper, computer for writing I can live and thrive anywhere. Now it's time to put that theory to the test, the real test. I'm out here in the real world, a place known and still is as the wild-wild west. This time I've lost a major income and support stream to hold up operations of living. Can I write and stretgize my way out of this salted cucumber known as a pickle? My confidence believes so but I'll need to make it so.

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