I don’t even know what I feel anymore.
I want to sleep, but I can’t sleep. I dread tomorrow because it’s going to be another week of work stress.
I am tired. Really tired. I smile and joke around officemates to hide this emptiness. I am beginning to hate what I do. I want to escape, but I can’t. I want my personal time. My “me” time. My “I-don’t-give-a-fuck-about-others” time. I want a long, long, long vacation before I contemplate on killing myself just to escape this hell.