Depressing uttering

I was seriously drowning out in work and wasting electricity on lights, fans and computers everyday till 4am. I sleep thinking about work, I wake thinking about incomplete work, I take the bus thinking about the work I can do next... I work WoRk woRk worK DroWn DrOwn DroWn droWn Work DrowN.

No time to blog. No time to indulge. No time to think. No time to sort out what I'm thinking. Panick. Worry. No time No time.

And the wierd things is, the more I try to cut out time from other things for work, the more I drown out in no-timeness and the more suffocating work gets. Work can simply swallow up every other thing and there's never enough time.

What does work swallow up? Everything that was once meaningful; memories that once meant much; thoughts that once deserved attention; people who once meant something. I remembered a fleeting thought about why acknowledging God is not a crutch for the weak, but I did not spare it much attention. I remembered enjoying myself in the greenhouse, pollinating orchids and looking at pitcher plants proudly shown by its excited post-grad owner, but a grey emptiness masks it. Happy moments leave an empty vacuum when no one shares it. I remember little of those moments that I was excited about because there's little significance in things which are only significant to me. Who would bother?

Now I see. Work consumes me. Suddenly, I'm cut off from the world. Suddenly, it doesn't matter that I exist. It doesn't make a difference, does it? Maybe it'd be better if I weren't here, as a nuisance who has to shove things off and turn irresponsible because of the Work which consumes everything.

On a depressing morbid note, if I were to disappear, I'd perhaps create a little ripple that shakes everything and everyone around me but for a miniscule portion of eternity, and fade away as an insignificant misty memory.

I made choices. I confined my world to myself. The flip-side of having no-strings attached anywhere is to be alone.

No time? I have an unnecessarily degratory and overly-pessimistic view of things? Rubbish?

This dark depth and morbidity is surreal in my reality and yet is reality in the surreal.


Simple-reality-thought-of-the-day:
They get scary when you start fitting them into your steoreotype. And nobody is a stereotype.