Saturday, July 10, 2010

Grinding Towards The Inevitable End

This thing is finally, finally drawing to its close. I think when we are assailed by the huge waves, tossed about on a sea of emotion and the pure unadulterated fear of non-performance and overwhelm, we break out into hysteria and madness.

I was mad.

I felt myself going mad.

I knew I was mad.

And try as I might I couldn't do anything about it.

You try standing on a walnut in the midst of the ocean and battling the waves. No matter what you throw at them, the waves are going to win.

Yesterday, for the first time, after a weary night of putting together profiles, I didn't feel scared. I had done enough so the task ahead of me wasn't as overwhelming as before. I could see the shore.

As anyone who has ever despaired can tell you, seeing the shore is the thing.

On the one hand, the other party, whom I faithfully send the products of my day's work, is silent and resentful.

It makes me no never mind. He can continue silent but once I have finished, I can wash my hands off it, and take off without worrying. I cast all worry from my mind.

This job was a mistake. It's hard to see a mistake when you think you're desperate and need to take whatever comes along.

Nobody is ever that desperate.

After Monday, I will need to figure out how to move on from here.

But it's like when I broke up with one persistent millstone around my neck. He said, one day you will come to regret this. I said, maybe, but the relief of not having to deal with you now, the sheer relief makes it all worth it. And then I waited to feel sorry. And I waited. And years passed and I was still waiting. And not only did I never feel sorry, I wondered why I had allowed him to drag out the end for so long, why I had endured his noxious presence for a microsecond longer than I wanted to.

I hear that some people even miss their tumours.

Apparently, I'm not one of them.

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