Another day, just before work begins.
I feel like I have no control. In a couple of hours, I’ll be working. The same routine. Demanding, demanding, demanding. Nothing I do will ever be enough.
I will smoke too much.
As I get stressed, I’ll scratch my head. I’ll stutter. I’ll try to mask it. The tobacco will stay stuck in my throat.
At lunch break, I’ll try to eat something, only because I force myself to.
Stress will be all over me.
I always feel like I’m one small mistake away from collapsing everything. Even when I do well, it doesn’t feel like mine. The pressure stays in my body long after the workday ends—in my shoulders, my stomach, in the way I breathe.
Sometimes I can’t tell if I’m tired from working or tired from holding it all together while working.
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