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Confession
thejanechord
Diaryland
notifylist.com
2002-11-05
4:48 p.m.
Before too long, my body is going to completely give out beneath the weight of this horrific existence of hatred, despair, misery, and catastrophe in favor of the restful relaxation of a calm and friendly death. I don’t think anyone in the history of the world has even the slightest ability to be able to begin to understand how hard it is for me to wake up every morning to go into work to face other human beings whose lives, voices, and faces I positively detest. Every time I hear a voice uttering some other set of senseless, useless, pathetically self-indulgent, self-serving, self-preserving, self-interested bullshit, waves of frustrated horror run up and down my spine like a billion tiny leprechauns doing a horrible dance of the macabre and skipping dandily across my carcass.
It’s more painful than you’ll ever know.
When somebody says something to me, I generally expect that it will be useless and irrelevant to anything else, so I usually allow it to bounce right off me. In the more unusual instances, the words of my colleagues, or even friends or family, well-intentioned as they may be, make my skin crawl to the point where I feel like if I don’t physically rip out the skeletal remains of whatever has died beneath my skin, I’ll surely develop an even more devastating disease that would plague me for the rest of my life.
I don’t like having a terminal illness.
This is terminal. It’s supposed to be helped by medication and therapy, but only so many drugs and so many trips to the doctor can help before they, too, begin to contribute to the overall deterioration of your life and wellness. I’m now off the Wellbutrin and on Celexa and Lorazapam instead. I’ve been on the Neurontin this whole time. This means that I’m now taking three -- count them, THREE -- medications to feel better than I would feel unmedicated so that I can now....
What exactly is being helped here?
Every attempt to accomplish something at work makes me feel like more and more of a failure. Every attempt I make to create something more or better of or for myself ends up tearing my brain into splintered little shards of invisibly thin needle points that prick and prick and prick until I feel like the blood is just pouring over my face all the while and anyone who can’t see that is obviously just fucking stupid and useless.
Can you not SEE what’s going on here?
I really can’t understand if people can’t see that my face literally feels like it’s going to crack off when I make an attempt at a smile. I’ve given up on talking to people at work because all I can do is utter meaningless phrases as I try to subtly back away from them while holding my arms behind me so that maybe ONE person will neglect to ask what the hell happened to my arm. How am I supposed to be doing this? How is this legal? How is it possible that I’m supposed to lead a healthy, normal, adult life like everyone else my age?
HOW CAN THAT BE?
I’m not the same as them. I’m different. I’ll argue to the end of time that I can do a job better than just about anyone else, but their incompetence is just another one of the things on a long list of items that make things worse for me than they really should. I’m not the same as the people playing internet Scrabble at work, laughing and chattering their dull time away, while I sit at my desk trying desperately to read and write enough to say something for my name, my reality, and my experience before I finally die.
This can’t go on.
I don’t know how long it’s supposed to work with me in limbo the way I am. How long can I continue to come into work if I’m scared that at any moment I’m going to collapse on the floor in a heap of broken Krista, while all the sane people in the office flock around in mass mock-concern, glancing around at their other sane coworkers, mumbling to but demanding of one another, “What’s wrong with her?” as if it’s MY fault that my body has decided it’s not capable of handling life if this stupid universe.
I’d be able to handle myself if I didn't also have to handle the stupidity of everyone else.
