The search engines are gonna love that title.
How can you stand it when you must sit there, quietly, in your corner while the building is collapsing all around you? Even where you are, you can see where the flaws are and you’re even able to predict where the next cracks will appear. You cannot say a word, though.
If you were to speak, it could be taken negatively so many ways; as nosiness, interference, and backhanded criticism. At this point in time, even a genuine remarked concern would be looked upon as disloyalty.
As usual, you’ve put much of yourself into the construction of this building since you weren’t content to remain a taker. Unfortunately, like so many that have already been crushed by falling debris, you won’t escape the fallout for much longer.
You can walk away while the others are too busy to notice. And when they become concerned, if at all, about your fate, you’ll be long gone. Maybe they’ll understand, some perhaps. Others will look at you as a rat that deserted a sinking ship. And you? Deep inside? You’ll look over your shoulder, now and again, and get that feeling in your belly, that sickness that you’ll take on as your betrayal. You’ll be your own worst enemy, as you’ve always been.
To escape that black hole of self-deprecation, you’ll sever those ties that once made you smile. You’ll toss all your souvenirs and keepsakes into a small box, maybe steal a stapler or two, and then when you get home, you’ll stash the box in the attic until some future self finds it just in time to open old wounds. Only then, when the building is long since dust, will you then open your mouth to speak. Everything you wanted to say will spill forth like venom reborn, but it will not satisfy. It just won’t matter anymore.
This rant brought to you by various occasions, then and now, that sit in cardboard boxes in my non-existant attic.
The day I felt like this, I put a cardboard box under my desk, tossed in my personal stuff, and fired off an e-mail at lunch time saying “I am gone. I won’t be back.” No notice, no sick leave, no nothing. I, like you, am not a taker.
Feeling betrayed. I suppose somewhat. But more betrayed by myself than anyone else by putting so much heart and soul into the job to even remember I had another life. Went home and six months later could not believe how good it felt to be home. The box is in my basement but I don’t need to look in it and if I do nothing in there can hurt me now.
Search engines, ugh. I have issues with the Google Adsense Gorpus. Glad to see you’ve seemed to clean out those boxes and set some of that stuff free. Feels good to do that now and then. Take care. -Margie
Reads rant a couple times and scratches her chin…Ok I give up…what did I do back then? ((cuz its all about me ;)) Sorry your feeling so … introspective shall we say.
Thanks for the birthday wishes!
I am not sure why my response was cut off, but I just wanted to say that your rant is also mine. I left my job of 20 years due to my disability, it was my whole life and now it is all in that box that I never look at. And all the smiles are gone, and all the people still go on without me even though I held it all together for them at one time.
This rant I can relate too. It means to me all that