You got a job. Congratulations. Don't tell me about it.

I've reached a new point in my life. Now, when someone tells me they got a job, I freak out, and have a panic attack. At that point, the person with the job says, "Don't worry! You'll get one soon!" Know what? Fuck you for saying that.

Are you employing me? No. It just sounds patronizing from you now. I know you're trying to help, or to make me feel better, but shut the fuck up. Congratulations, go get drunk, knowing that you'll be able to pay for it after the bar. I'm going to sit here, blindly sending out letters, and wondering why I actually studied in law school. Everyone with jobs didn't. It all goes to show you, that some people are just born lucky, and some people aren't. I wasn't. Yeah, great, I got good grades. That's certainly done a lot for me, when I'm probably in a worse position than the person at the bottom of the class who probably has a job.

I don't want to hear about your job, I don't want to hear about your joy. I'm past the point of being able to be happy for you. Sorry if that's selfish, and sorry if that's "rude." (It's not.) All I want is for one of these thousands of interviews I go on to work out. When you get a job, don't tell me about it. I don't want to know what you'll be doing, because honestly, I don't give a shit. I want to know what I'll be doing, and at this point, I'll be sitting on a couch, eating Cheetos, and waiting for the electricity to get cut off.

When you tell me you got a job offer, it actually manifests itself physically in my body. I blanch, start sweating, and then feel that familiar burn of acid reflux. Hearing your good news actually just killed me a little bit, so do me a favor - don't tell me.