Running With Scissors

In the morning, as I was being drifted back to consciousness, the first feeling that I’d recognize is anxiety. Imagine waking up into that for over twenty years of your life, not exactly a warm blanket.

I honestly have seen the iceberg from miles away. I remember in my first few days here, I walked down the corridor and thinking, “What the hell am I doing here?” Well guess what? Seven months later and I still don’t know what I’m doing here. At first I thought because I was new — adjustment period. It all started quite subtly; I did not love it, but I did not hate it either. But then it quickly built up; before I knew it I hate this job and everything that comes with it with every bone in my body. The anxiety gotten bigger, the dark could above my head’s turned darker. I will lie awake in my bed every night thinking how I could escape tomorrow. Suddenly it’s not just about work, and as cliché as it might sound, it’s about everything. How I long not to ever wake up from my sleep. Between 00:00 to 01:00 is usually the dreariest time of the day; large amount of anxieties rushing in, condensed into a 60 minutes of terror. The crucial 60 minutes that could determine tomorrow; shall I continue? Shall I quite? These 60 minutes are hungrier than any other hours in the day. It chews harder, big bite and ripping every bit of consciousness with its sharp teeth.

Every two seconds of my waking life, my mind’s racing for an exit.

(Bali, February 2014)

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