mephausto

At where I work, I get used to all sorts of behaviors and actions that I would have hoped I would never get used to: being yelled at, being bossed around, letting mysoginists roam a little, tolerating stupid shitheads, etc. I get used to abnormality, to the exceptions to the rule when it comes to believing that generally people are kind. I expect less and usually get it. I hope little and end up resisting less and less. It's not that I'm completely acquiescing; I have job to do and I do it well, though some days leave me less inspiried as to the process of recovery and cognitive-behavioral restructuring than I would hope.

It would almost make sense, then, that this relationship I'm suffocating from began and is perpetrated at my place of employment. It would make sense that the cycles of our relationship are something that I end up abiding by, resisting less and less and becoming more and more disenfranchised with. At the end of any period of time spent with her, I am drained and empty, pushed around and pointed at, discovering just how supposed caresses can be as damaging as fists to the confused psyche. I seem to be kept off balance and everything is ill-communicated; I try to think of where it began and all I see is the flames that I wish to consume what tangible memories are left of it all. It is not that I do not care; it is just that I feel nothing and cannot continue to try to be something I'm not.

I know what I need to do, where I need to be, what I don't deserve, who I am and whatever other self-affirming truths there are. Somehow I remain torn and silent, watching as the same wordless times go by, touches meant to be healing and false intimacies escaping my body. I feel the decay deepen and grow inside and know I need to run, soon.

But somehow I'm just used to it all and end up paralyzed and tense, uncomfortable, losing sleep.

I feel subhuman some days. On those days, all I want to do is disappear. I want to disappear because I know that I made the wrong choice to begin with, and then stuck with it despite my own protests. In the end, I'm curled up and wide awake, asking the darkness why I do this again and again.