Work, rest, die
Sometimes, right now, I feel they could replace me with a robot. Everything becomes a task and I fear that dealing with me is a task for others. I take no delight in anything and no one delights in me. I begin to doubt I have any point.Why do I feel like that? I could enjoy things. Others are not trying to make things hard to enjoy for me. They are not even really thinking about whether I will enjoy what they are doing. But that is what drives me further and further into my shell, the belief that no one cares about what I feel about it, the belief that no one wants to hear my voice, know me, be touched by me. I become convinced that I am entirely marginal -- and doubtless I am -- and that they will say they care for whatever small thing they can wring out of it, while in truth it means nothing. I start to fear that they have some other purpose in having anything to do with me, because it doesn't feel like it's for me. It's wrong, I know, to think that everything must be for something. It's irrational because so many things are pointless. We just do them because we have 24 hours in a day and limited imaginations.
I am drowning. I can swim but I'm pretending I can't. I want someone to come by and throw me a line but everyone who sees me in the water thinks I'm splashing around for fun. What if I stopped? What if I just went under, calm and still. They'd say, we used to see him around, bathing, and now we just don't.
posted by Dr Zen @ 12:32 pm
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