Nearsighted Goals
You'd expect something like a horrible migraine to just keep you from going on with your day.
The anger, torment and nightmares from reliving things you thought never should have happened to begin with.
Not me. Powering through was always my specialty.
Even with my dreams.
Cold sweat, not being able to move. Feeling like my body wasn't even mine.
I'd laugh at the tragedy if I ever felt like it. But I don't. I can barely do anything anymore.
Taste. Smell. Even listening is just like an automatic function. Me, but not me. Existing in a void between awake and asleep. You'd think I was bored or even not being affected by any of it.
I was. For.. months. Felt like years. Never let on because it just wasn't my place to do so.
I was just always way too good at hiding it. A smile on my face hid the pain.
Not telling anyone meant I was saving myself the trouble of disappointing anyone else. My job didn't need any more emotional attachment to it than it already did. I had my personal stake in keeping things in line here.
Saving my own skin, for one.
Not like I'd ever tell anyone that I had more that I looked out for besides myself.
Point is, I'm Tag. I always look out for number one. Don't need anyone to fight my battles for me.
Not me.
Not someone that stares at a computer screen and occasionally yells at an empty void. Even if our job is life threatening by design, it's unhealthy.
Of course I complain. And bitch. And file every piece of paper I can find that has an important name on it.
It's evidence of my life. Anything I ever held with my name on it.
I exist as I am now because other people decided I was useful. At least, that's how I always saw it. I wanted to justify my existence for so long. Actually prove that I was worth having around.
Selfish, on reflection.
But fuck it, I stopped caring whether or not I stopped breathing a long time ago.
I just do what I need to do to survive. A nearsighted world. The bigger picture is simple.
The goal itself is basic as fuck.
Exist. Thrive. And for god's sake.
Stop running through all of this corporate red tape.
- Tag
The anger, torment and nightmares from reliving things you thought never should have happened to begin with.
Not me. Powering through was always my specialty.
Even with my dreams.
Cold sweat, not being able to move. Feeling like my body wasn't even mine.
I'd laugh at the tragedy if I ever felt like it. But I don't. I can barely do anything anymore.
Taste. Smell. Even listening is just like an automatic function. Me, but not me. Existing in a void between awake and asleep. You'd think I was bored or even not being affected by any of it.
I was. For.. months. Felt like years. Never let on because it just wasn't my place to do so.
I was just always way too good at hiding it. A smile on my face hid the pain.
Not telling anyone meant I was saving myself the trouble of disappointing anyone else. My job didn't need any more emotional attachment to it than it already did. I had my personal stake in keeping things in line here.
Saving my own skin, for one.
Not like I'd ever tell anyone that I had more that I looked out for besides myself.
Point is, I'm Tag. I always look out for number one. Don't need anyone to fight my battles for me.
Not me.
Not someone that stares at a computer screen and occasionally yells at an empty void. Even if our job is life threatening by design, it's unhealthy.
Of course I complain. And bitch. And file every piece of paper I can find that has an important name on it.
It's evidence of my life. Anything I ever held with my name on it.
I exist as I am now because other people decided I was useful. At least, that's how I always saw it. I wanted to justify my existence for so long. Actually prove that I was worth having around.
Selfish, on reflection.
But fuck it, I stopped caring whether or not I stopped breathing a long time ago.
I just do what I need to do to survive. A nearsighted world. The bigger picture is simple.
The goal itself is basic as fuck.
Exist. Thrive. And for god's sake.
Stop running through all of this corporate red tape.
- Tag
Comments
Post a Comment