Looking myself in the mirror gets harder everyday. Anxiety siezes my soul and suffocates my lungs. It feels like an invisible python coiled around my chest.
It’s called lies and regrets; remorse and hatred; more love for others than for myself; its called wanting to walk until my feet are sore and blistered and I can walk no more.
The last fourteen years of my life have not been easy. However, they are not void of good times. But I figured I would have been further along in life than what I am. Proportionate to my salary, I am in debt up to my eyeballs, and nothing to show for it. I don’t own my own house, my marriage feels like it is in a perpetual state of purgatory, and my boys can’t speak a word-not even daddy, I love you!
Some days, it feels damn near impossible to lift my chin off my chest. I just want to be left alone. People I work with don’t know my life’s struggles. Working with a bunch of gosspis, I have learned to keep certain things private. Being here, I don’t want to talk to anyone.
To them, I just want to be another shadow moving down the hall.