Peppers of emotions

After close to six months of having the lines blurred and the scales unevenly balanced, the consequences are there for me to silently endure. Working overtime continuously has injured the soul in more ways than one: the tendency to self-isolate as well as zone out mentally has presented itself even in my personal life, which isn’t good. It means that I’m unable to separate the office me and the private me from each other. Just because my facial expressions are still the same, it’s harder for me to respond to people and maintain my concentration. I’m aware that I need to air my opinions since no one is a mind reader, but I won’t do so in an unencouraging situation because I’ll receive a rude remark for the umpteenth time as a reply. Sure, the feeling of living in a pressure cooker is still around, if not worse than before. 

Being referred to as “childish” and “blur” complicates things even further. Now, you may wonder who’d call me as such. While I never took offence at whatever has been said about it, hearing it within earshot serves nothing but annoy the lights out of me. I’d much appreciate it if it’s being said directly to me. At least there wouldn’t be any misunderstandings brewing in the pot. I wouldn’t reveal much on a public sphere but those closer towards me have been privately informed about this. 

Everything has been thrown out of whack, if I’m being candor with myself. What’s made worse is the strong tension and a poisoned aura. I could be left to my own devices, slowly waddling through the delayed paperwork when an anxiety-like attack decides to happen. My limbs are weighted that walking or moving my hands require a great deal of effort. My throat goes dry and I’ll shiver in a warm environment. That’s problem number one. Problem number two stems from the stagnancy in my own life. There isn’t much growth to spur/encourage me to fight harder to obtain what I want… and all I see are setbacks instead. 

And yet I dreamt of a good friend. He was walking up a flight of stairs with his pal whereas me and Mama Carrie were walking down the same steps. He saw her first and said hello to her, but she couldn’t recognize him and didn’t return the greetings. He pouted at the shock until I said hello, which delighted him. His eyes shone even the darkest path when he heard my voice. The dream has a double-edged sword to it because on one hand, my subconscious has sent him to sort of comfort me away, but on the other hand, my emotions have been so impacted from my troubled waking life that I’m having negative thoughts all over again.

Or maybe I'm so confused that I can't comprehend what's going on.