2004-03-04

Falling apart slowly

If I were to say that I am at peace I would be lying...I am barely hanging on. Yet, I never complain...I faint, I cry, and I become frustrated but I don't complain. I wonder if people notice the look of exhaustion on my face, the one that says "help...I am dying", but if they do, they must ignore it, because all they do is to keep pushing me.

"Libet, we need this closing argument done by tomorrow"

"Libet, why aren't you writing like I want you to?"

"Why were you not here yesterday? You know, you had plenty of time"

And it's always Libet, Libet, Libet...but what if one day, Libet is gone? What if I just drop everything and stop, and realize that life means nothing and that our only purpose is to die after living a miserable existance?

I have never been so afraid for my own health, and now when I look in the mirror I oftentimes see this tired look, and the color drained from my face--I look so depressed, but I'm not. I start thinking that perhaps if I faint one of these days they will all leave me alone.

Save your useless looks of disappointment because I am fully aware of my performance (or lack of at times). I only know that I am very very tired, and that I don't want to put my job before my health any more.

THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING! WHEN ARE THEY GOING TO UNDERSTAND THAT I AM ONLY A PERSON WHO IS BECOMNING VERY VERY ILL?

And slowly, one boiling tear escapes my eye, followed by another, and then another...until my face is damp and salted with them. This is too much and I never say anything...I only cry and let out enfeebled whimpers in the darkness--where even I can't see my own weakness. I rush here--my only refuge, and I type away and let my heart dictate the hand.

What is wrong with me? I am slowly falling apart...

aeka at 5:25 a.m.