The price you pay

I am seriously sick of it. I'm sick of feeling fucked up and feeling like a fuckup. I'm sick of dreaming of work when I sleep and thinking of work when I'm awake, the work that I haven't done and the work that I did, and knowing that doing work just leads to more. I'm sick of the stupid games you have to play, that the other side plays, that our clients play with us because they lie and think they won't get caught. I'm sick of bringing home work every single fucking night, for working every weekend, for feeling guilty when I stop to snatch some sleep. I'm well and truly fed up with not knowing what it feels like to sleep before 1 in the morning for weeks.

I loathe the fact that I work and work and The Boy waits and waits for me and I can't spend more time with him and I'm not better company and we're always so tired because we've given our all at the office. I've had it with having work become my life simply because it takes so much time that there is nothing else left. I'm pissed off with being told I'm not trying when in reality, I'm doing the goddamn best I can but I'm close to exploding because I'm running on empty. I abhor the fact that I'm spending my last remaining months not being with my friends, my family, my boy, because I'm selling my soul to the devil so I can fly home more often, so I won't have to contemplate eating my leather boots when I'm starving in a foreign land, so I can actually travel every now and then. I'm tired of smoking and catching myself thinking, "God, I need a cigarette", simply because I'm so far gone.

And I HATE the fact that I have to keep at this for a few months more.

Fuck you, this is not my life.