Somewhere…
Out there …
There is a woman sitting in her office
She is at her desk
Fingers on keyboard
Staring blankly at the screen in front of her
There are words on the screen
Names upon names in the cc:
A ping signals the 5 minute countdown to the next call
But she’s not comprehending what’s in front of her
She’s lost in a chaotic swirl of thoughts
Words bounce around like a pinball machine on overdrive
Miserable
Stressed
Wrong
Confused
Why
Ungrateful
Broken
Shame
Guilt
Shame
Guilt
Shame
Guilt
WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME
She has done all the things
She has checked all the boxes
She has the six figure salary
She has the house
She has the cars
She has the partner
She has the family
She has the friends
She has
She has
She has
Still - a deep sense of discontent festers within
Like a tangled mass of cells, it grows
It doesn’t go away
A part of her is curious about the veil
What exists beyond it
Questions no longer arrive as a subtle whisper
It no longer feels like a request for exploration
It demands a deeper inquisition
But she dares not speak this aloud
For fear of ridicule or shame
So she puts her mask back on
And then she goes about her day.
