9:28 a.m. | 2004-11-10
I'm As Insignificant As That Dash
I can't bring myself to write pointless entries--I hold too high of an impression of myself to let me do that. Yet I feel guilty having so much welled up inside of me and not being able to say it just because I can't find the skill to do so. I've been working the past few days a bit more than usual, and every second of that I've been treading on unsteady ground. I've been trying to stay on people's good sides, trying to do the right thing, and trying to do my job the best I can. That's not always easy. My life has become determined by whether it's near 7 or not (our morning rush) or 3 or not (our afternoon rush) and I can't find the balance between the two and I can't find the balance between caring about the job and not. On top of all of the work related stress, other stress has been added. Stress that I won't bring up because I made a point never to mention it here and I'm not going to start now. And once again, I'm going about trying to create drama in my life simply because it's missing. Am I that sick? Am I that desperate for attention? I'm again in the midst of huge personal changes and I need to get ahold of those and make sure I'm the one in control; not them. But it's still frustrating.
