Suffocating in ten feet of work

And so it happened. Not only am I losing my best friend emotionally, my own emotions are thrown out of whack. I’m finding myself hiding in the toilet, breaking down out of stress, the constant aura of not being able to blend in, and forgetting things. Even though I’m only one with a pair of hands, I’ve been handed paperwork that can be stretched into six paws. I’ll either need to summon the assistance of an octopus to multitask or neko no te mo karitai. My performance is also declining as a result. Yet no one comprehends the height of stress I silently endure at the workplace. My tongue is sharp and I’m failing more often in biting back my words, being more susceptible to lashing out at those around me. Atama ni kuru. My heart is drained, but I feign normalcy so as to avoid questions or comments that are uncalled for. I’m not surprised; I’m working overtime at least four days in a row and nursing a headache in the office, choosing to ride it out or relying on Panadol to help manage when the pain becomes unbearable.



And so it happened - me harboring the desire to isolate. Me wanting to be left alone, away from everyone. Me barking at the smallest thing. The tension - along with the paperwork - is building up on each other to the point where I’m on the verge of exploding at myself over the slightest mistake (and possibly hurting myself). Nandayo, my memory has taken a beating to the point where I’m a fish struggling to stay afloat and not remembering what I need to do. Trust me, it’ll be a matter of time before I throw in the towel and let myself drown under the workload, triggering a wave of apathy and possibly taking things too far. Ii kagen ni shite.

And so it happened - me longing to have that quiet hour to myself at the nearby cafe. Screw it, even my lunch break is spent on work. I need some sort of normalcy instead of staring at the computer screen for nine straight hours. Breathing the same air for hours on end doesn’t do any benefit; it instead causes more avoidable harm to the psyche and body. I’d love to be selfish on weekends where I can have some me-time at a coffeehouse situated in a neutral area, smelling the comforting aroma of caffeine. I can only dream about this. I’m instead staring at the growing number of uncompleted files or begrudgingly returning to the office, meaning that I’m not having any life whatsoever.



I’m aware that I’m pushing everyone away and adopting the gaze of someone snappy, but I can only do what’s best for myself. And my mental health. I’m sure what I’m experiencing is a symptom of something more sinister, but it’s not like anyone will comprehend it anyway. Everyone is of the impression that I’m a Wonder Woman who magically waves her wand and all of my work is settled as a result.