I feel sorry about everything. To everyone.
And proud of nothing.
I don't think I have ever been proud of much.
Because everything has always been tinged by the underlying knowledge
that if they know
when they know
their pride will die
and will be replaced with
despair and
disgust.
And here I sit, with proof.
A glowing letter written in ignorance
and a devastated email
written in knowledge.
What am I to conclude?
But to be justified?
In all my years
of internal abuse?
I am a monster.
That is how I feel.
I know different.
But to feel is to trump
all logic.
I need out, but there is no out but selfishness.
I want in, but there is no in but lies.
What do I do?
But sit here and feel paralyzed.
And hope that the growing pile of work
and the days until the weekend
can distract
from the truth
of present realities.
