Outside of myself. The woman everyone see’s just like everyone else, is carefully crafted. I am strong enough sometimes to smile and make jokes to my colleagues and sort out the chaos on my 3 Monitors to successfully complete a days work. I have pain beyond my threshold leeching on my spine and chest. I contain them until the weekend when I can perform my mental surgeries.
When the wounds mastisize and become larger than my ability to contain them I am frozen. I am powerless. I look at my 3 Monitors and watch the inbox rise watch the Skype pings sting watch that there is a phone call waiting to be clicked to answered watch the incoming tickets from large companies cry out “Help us keep our millions, in return we give you scraps enough to feed your cats but no health insurance no job assurance”
I stay home
I keep to my bed
I self medicate when the Prozac isn’t enough
Get it together
“What’s wrong?” “I know you’re not feeling well…” “You need to work on your attendance” “???”
A woman is on maternity leave. She has paperwork to prove her pregnancy. Watch her belly grow. Give her rest let her leave.
A man breaks his arm. He is clearly unable to type and is obviously in pain. Give him rest let him leave. Let’s wish him well..
I have nothing to show on the outside. I have no symptoms of chemotherapy to see. I have no belly to watch grow. I have no broken bones. I have no papers to provide proof of the disease inside. Toughen up Toughen up Get it together What’s wrong with her she called out 2 times last month and now she’s out a week? Why does she get so quiet? I think she’s just a *****. She doesnt do as many emails as us lately, why is she so slow sometimes? I wish she was fired. She’s so unreliable.
I feel I have no arms no legs most days I feel pain swallow me up into nothing. I meditate I keep hope if I work on my mind enough this invisible cancer will cure. It hasn’t. It’s blackness and boils on my chest and spine and the back of my head have remained for over 19 years… I’m 30 next year. I ebb and flow as a slave to the leash length of this disease (demon? Archon?) . I fight with whatever i have even sleep as a weapon against it.
I fight invisible things.
Let it end. Let me be done. I can’t bare the disappointments from all directions. Let me die or give me a gun. I already failed a way that shouldn’t have failed. Give me a gun. Let my heart give out from self medication. Let it end.