Man, for the past 5 years I haven't even enjoyed writing or storycrafting, and I've completely lost the ability to do it. The only reason I still pretend that I'll still finish my second novel one day is that I just feel too ashamed to admit defeat again, and don't really have any other reason to keep living other than emotionally supporting my parents.

>got a job at a major bank
>start date kept getting pushed back for a month before I finally got my laptop
>the entire project was a clusterfuck from day 1
>the entire previous team had fled the company without leaving documentation
>the new team spent two weeks trying to figure out how to get the derelict repos running in a local environment
>note: it required a very specific set of permissions and version numbers that was inexplicably different on every single person's laptop
>every time someone updated one of those files, the entire thing broke again
>the company blocked npm, and made us use an abandoned registry with none of the right version
>literally nobody knew how to contact the team responsible, and their phone line was disconnected
>we eventually had to resort to passing around a zip file of the node_modules
>site was designed like a nuclear sub's switchboard and I had no idea how to use it or what it did
>company was literally less competent crypto startup I once worked at where the CEO was 17 the entire office was hazy with bong smoke
>I suggested we make a taskboard multiple times and was shouted down by my managers because we "didn't have enough time"
>got an email about a company event that made it unclear whether attendance was mandatory
>when I asked the project lead he told me "I can't teach you how to read"
>coworkers insisted on phone calls rather than using a chat client due to a severe "writing shit down" allergy
>entire team turned over in the first three months
>before he left, the project lead switched us over to a new database and didn't copy over any of the tables correctly