running out

It's early morning and my stomach is all in knots again. It feels acidic and generally unhappy, but this is something I am actually starting to get used to. I often feel like I am going to vomit. Should I complain? I weighed myself at the gym yesterday and found I have lost 12 pounds. Every rose has its thorn though, right? Or I guess in this case every thorn has its rose.

So I am dreading going to the place with the wonderful new technology (that never works), and the photocopiers that will become your appendage (as long as you enter your code!!! Or if they haven't run out of standard sized paper). The place with smiling kids (who are punching each other, leaving garbage on your floor, and never really doing any work). It's the place that I am spending most of my days at now, except when I come home it is not really home anymore. Home is like a side office of this institution. It's where I can do my office type work in my pajamas, and mourn about it because I would rather be doing something else. Even the dishes...

Home is the place where my love doesn't get any love from me. I bark out orders because things need to be done and I don't have time. I send him on errands for groceries because I can't afford a trip to town. He gets me rushing around trying to get things done, and being too tired when he strokes my hip or kisses me softly and passionately.

This is not my passion. This is not even close. I don't think that all of the money in the world is worth losing yourself.

I have been steadily losing myself since 2004. So when do I run out? When am I entirely gone?

I am feeling no passion. Just exhaustion.