The stalemate - despair

In the middle of the day, in a brand-new office, despair. Letters on a screen, files in cabinets. What am I doing here? I can’t do this anymore. Not another day.

The eternal prison of repetition. I want to leave, but I can't leave. Money. Can I think of something to fix this? I want anything but to feel this. If I could jump, I would jump. But I am stuck. I feel like screaming.

I’m afraid of these sentences. I'd rather not look at them. What if they become true? I would rather write about something else - poetic, about love or nature. And yet my fingers type these words. As if I am hoping for a solution I don't believe exists. An escape from the inevitable.

The feelings we never wanted to feel. Mama, when she was ill, when she was dying. She couldn’t escape, trapped in her body. Maybe she wanted to scream. I wanted to scream too. She drank ice water from little red glasses to ease the pain. She smiled and said, ‘Tomorrow will be better.’ Her lips were red with lipstick, the room smelled of illness.

And now it sometimes overtakes me, in the middle of the day, while I am working. As if we are still in it and will never get out. Then I want to run, do anything to escape. Then I wish so deeply I could be someone else. I beg for a solution I cannot - and perhaps do not want - to find.

Because won’t I lose her when the desperate situation finally comes to an end? Won't it be over for good? Her hand in mine, her laugh, her love.

May 2022