It’s another year of agony.
Another anxiety-ridden year.
Should I just quit now?
I cannot handle a whole year.
I cannot cope.
A year is far too long.
Giving up would set off a chain of reactions —
Far-reaching and damaging.
A decision has to be made by nightfall.
I’m at my wits’ end.
It’s not looking good.
Down the slide, I go.



Worked for one, not the other; chickened out of another.

Why do I even bother when I’m just going to end it all? Does it even matter? It’s all meaningless for me. I am meaningless.

I immerse myself in work. I find reward in that. I seem to have a knack for it, but it’s not going to last long. I am a fraud.

A few try to reach out. Some superficially, others curiously. I remain distant behind a glass wall, peering out in silence. I am contaminated.

The paranoia seeps in. I try to shake it off to keep it from settling. Once in its grip, it’s a quick descent into a tar pit.