The Worker

Pasta By Weirdowithcoffee 

To be quite frank, I hate my life.

It's not just as incredibly dull as it is difficult work. Throughout my life I've seen the same exact cycle, every single day - wake up, go to work for the rest of the day, eat, serve our boss, sleep, rinse and repeat. Obviously it's a pretty bad life, but I've grown accustomed to it. If I was unable to get used to it, I would've died after the first day.

Not only that, though, it also is incredibly dangerous and terrifying. You don't know how many times rival families have raided us, or how many times I've nearly lost a limb engaged in a struggle with an enemy. I also hate killing other living beings in general, so it hurts when I have to fight - the fact that I'm not part of the militant section of my job doesn't help much, either.

One of the most awful experiences of my life was about a month ago. I had finally come home from my daily scout, and what I saw when I entered the building would scar me for life.

It was complete slaughter. At least over three hundred of my fellow workers...dead. Dead limbs strewn everywhere. It was obvious that this was the work of one of our rival families. There must have been at least over a thousand of them to trample through so many workers like this. Fortunately, more than half of the other workers in general survived, but it still haunts me to this day. Sometimes I wonder why I'm not dead yet, or why I was even born at all, even. My life is a dull, boring, dangerous, repetitious, miserable and traumatizing wreck. Sometimes I really, really just wish something would just crush me...

You know, you should consider yourself lucky. If you think your life is bad, just think of me; It's hard being a worker ant.