♥ ♥ ♥ Sometimes I wonder if you think about me as much as I think about you
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my hands are shaking, my head is throbbing, and it's all I can do to not grind my teeth to flat surfaces.
I try my hardest, I work my 8 hours everyday, I would do 10, but they won't let me. How am I suposed to do all this work, confused, in my 8 hours? I could be here 50 hours a week, barely meeting a suitable amount of work. In a state of disarray, I stare at my shaking hands.
Questions and accusations fly. I feel like I'm left in the dark. Like there is a club and I'm not welcome, then I get blamed for not showing up. Does that make sense? Things are 'set' up for me, but I don't know the time. Then I get in trouble?? How is that fair?
Life isn't fair, I know I know. This is something I've been told all me life. Hell, that is something I've experienced all my life. But I always felt safe in my little cubicle. Like as long as I tried hard, I'd make my way out of Shit Creek.
Nope.
What kills me is even when I don't want to start anything, conversation wise, and just agree to disagree, I still get the word. Maybe I am not a great conversationalist.
I can feel the saliva draining from my mouth, here comes a headache. Sooner or later I'll have my head in my hands, cradling my poor throbbing head. And there's not one damn thing I can do for it at that point.
I can't wait for this weekend. And it's only Tuesday.
8:36 a.m. - 2006-03-21
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