What used to be a healthy distaste for my work has now turned into a chronic revulsion. To make things worse, I am now constantly accompanied by a sense of responsibility that makes me want to do the best that I can, and a sort of advance guilt for mistakes that I haven't made, but am scared that I will make.
At the end of the day, I am drained out with the effort that it takes to ensure that no monumental disaster has taken place, and despite everything, another day has gone by without me having to admit that I cannot take this anymore. And then I sleep. It feels as though I couldn't sleep enough, as though only deep, dreamless sleep will ever cure me.
Many times during the day, I feel the need to push every single problem to the back of my mind and go for coffee breaks. And when I give in to that need, more than anything else, I hate coming back to my desk. I have been thinking about myself a good deal (so what's new!) and watching other people's attitudes and behaviour to defend mine, and I've come to the conclusion that if it wasn't for this constant need for security, I would be more than happy to throw up everything and be a bum.
But no. We want to eat our cake and have it too.
We want to break our heart over work that we hate to make a life that we are unable to live.
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