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[Oct. 26th, 2007|01:13 pm] |
i'm not sure what is actually driving this anxiety and restlessness. sweaty palms, dismayed pillows and your blanket is the enemy in sleep.
for sure waiting for the 2nd week of november is giving off a lingering and quiet nervousness. it is without a doubt it is in part to shoulder responsibility for current unstability.
at the same time, i have a lot to think about. am i going back to work. am i fit enough to go back to work. is the company worth to go back to with all the fucking shit that's going on. i can't even save myself enough to clean up its shit again. i don't even believe in some of the things that go on in there to want to be a part of it. i love the scope, i love the job but if u ask me to clean up shit everyday, even when im on leave, wtf.
but on the other hand, im not prepared to go incomeless. i'm so used to have money in my hands. not just money. but money to spend. money to be generous with. and now that i'm tight it's driving me crazy. quietly. to know for a fact that i would be dry flaked out makes me disastrously nervous.
i have a lifestyle to support. i have bills to pay.
ok fuck the lifestyle. there's bills and social responsibility. and i need to smoke!
perhaps these 2 months sabbatical was a mistake. i wasnt prepared to go on unpaid leave for that long. but it was either my desperate health or fucking income. which would you have chosen. i don't believe in regrets but there's this extreme hatred for myself for being sick. i think of the way ive lived my life and im pointing so many fingers in one direction.
it's you, bitch.
you drove yourself sick. your previous lifestyle, not thinking, just enjoying, just living life once. so you invested in all the vices. you believed in many and you just rode the life invincible. so you thought.
and then you thought... wtf am i doing, i'm more than this. i have fucking potential so you thought you needed to make up for lost time, that you owed yourself and some people a living for the living you've managed to wreck for a while. so you work like there's no one else who can do it better than you, like there's no one else who can run a company that's not even yours.
but you quit in the end because you realised your job was your only life. you knew it was unhealthy, so you quit. you took up another job. but u end up doing the same thing, living in your work environment. you feel guilty and unproductive if you're not in the office for the weekend. you have managed to develop a condition. either it's a fucking bad habit or i'm sick in the head like that.
so yea, rina said to me once, in a manner that made me feel like she didn't know how else to say it but backed up by concern of course. "you know, people die young because of work. you're a workaholic."
when you work like a driven dog, your desperate health and your stored energy catches up with you. that's when you say shit happens. and you realised you're fucked.
yea that's where i am now. the i'm fucked point in life. again.
i think it's fucked up when you want to work but you're physically unfit to work. i think of helmi's dad who is very sick in the hospital with diabetes. he's worked all his life to provide for his family and now he feels he has lost his pride as a man, husband and father because he cannot work. he feels he ought to get better just so he can work again.
i try not to tell myself im sick. i want to behave like im not; to psychologically drive the sickness away. but there are days i feel normal, i feel fine, i feel like i can be the last man standing at a party. but there are days when i walk out to the shop to buy something to eat and then i feel like i need to be indoors for the rest of the week.
and i, in a distorted point of view, muse in this observation and fact of life that when shit happens, more shit will follow through.
you're sick. you can't work. you will run out of money. and suddenly there's 1001 things to pay for.
today is just not a positive day. |
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