Sicker

It is getting worse. Whatever that I was feeling before, it was getting worse.

I am getting more and more disheartened by the moment. All that I could feel now is the greyness that shrouds me like a blanket.

And it is suffocating me.

Work is busy, but that was usual. We are making progress slowly. But there are times when I do wonder, if I really am fulfilled by all this.

My work is my living, but it is not my life.

There are times when I feel that I am like a joke to another, or to others. I don't mind being a clown in a crowd, it makes people laugh and happy. But I hate it dearly when people talked about me behind my back, as though I am a joke. It hurts especially so when those people who talked about me like that are the people dear to me. It do not really hurt when normal people talk about me from behind. I do not really care about them and what they think. I could not give a f***ing damn.

My head is clouded, and I could not think properly. There is something so maddening about it. I just cannot make sense of some things now. Damn, my head hurts.

I cannot think. I cannot make sense of things. My eyes sting. And I cannot feel properly.

I don't want no drugs.

Leave me alone.