I really should've gone

The complete irony lies in the fact that I was well rested before today. I slept earlier than usual, woke up later than usual (because nobody was going along with me) and even had a thirty-minute nap in the car, as it was stuck in traffic. And yet, when I got here, all my energy decided to take the last train to London.

And I started singing. I really want tonight to last forever. I really want to be with you.

Well, I didn't, but in times when you've got nothing to hold on to - either because you had to move desks, or because there's really no reason to keep holding on to something that won't let you anyway - you'll just feel like it isn't really worth it. And yet you're forced to find a reason to do so. After all, you can't just give up. People hate people who give up. And so goes keeping up appearances, when all you want to do is curl up the bed until it all ends, slightly annoyed that it's so far away. You just want to do something about it. Hasten the demise, so to speak.

I was finished before noon.

Blame the folks at Seattle. I didn't get an email, so I was limited to what I thought I was allowed to do. I've been keeping an essay in my head for days now, and while I've placed it in embargo until (hopefully) tomorrow, I still haven't received any approval. But that isn't really the reason. In fact, I could be doing something right now, or at least for the past five hours, but I'm not. Flotation devices notwithstanding, I feel very tired right now.

Last night was a burden. I was chatting with Monica, and I couldn't believe the stuff I was telling her, or the stuff she was telling me. Imagine me telling someone, with a straight face and the most serious demeanor, about actually considering suicide. Imagine me trying to cry, because I felt that something will come out, but giving up thirty minutes later. But it felt like the boiling point - seeing other people move on, not being able to do what you plan to do, waiting for something that wouldn't come even if it was the end of the world, feeling powerless about everything. Oh, if only my parents noticed that I'm being more irritable at home, the fact that I've been fighting with my mother more often than at any point in my two decades. If only they understood everything - the fact that I've wanted out from the moment my probation period ended, that it was my plan from the moment I cried at the mall, feeling helpless about the job offer that I wanted to refuse, but couldn't. If only they knew that giving up isn't necessarily a sign of cowardice, of weakness, of the aversion to constant change, the lack of will to make things better.

If only my friends knew that I've tried everything that I could possibly try, but the second step just isn't presenting itself.

If only my bosses knew that I'm not happy with the way things are going, from idle afternoons to the lack of actual interaction.

If only my colleagues knew how I feel whenever they laugh behind my back, literally, and not realize that I'm actually right there, waiting for a beginning.

If only there was a chance to get out of here, I will.

Actually, as all arguments have gone, I can file that resignation letter and leave any time. But I've always insisted that I won't leave unless I have somewhere to go to, because nobody wants me to be unaccomplished, and nobody wants me to be idle, and nobody wants me around, because I'll just be a drain on the resources when I could be helping out. And that, it turns out, is the biggest contradiction that's faced me.

And your responses...

dot, dot, dot.

Blogger N.1/26/2009     

I'm so sorry. I didn't realize that you loathe your job.

Blogger Unknown1/27/2009     

Post a Comment