SACHA BLACK

anger

Anger

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Today I am just fucking angry. I can’t help it.

I am angry with everything, at everything, about everything and with everyone.

I don’t want to be consoled I feel like enough of a leper as it is without everyone trying to tread on eggs shells around me and tell me how well I’m doing. Fuck off.

I’m not in control, I am not ok, and I don’t wana hear that I’m “doing so well- your coping brilliantly”

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

The only reason everyone else thinks I’m coping is because I don’t do emotion in front of people. I only discuss fact and the action plan we are taking. What else is there? (Don’t answer that)

And then when I am on my own, I let silent tears fall down my cheeks.

All day everyday I am thinking about my eggs and IVF. I am losing the plot on the inside and a stone cold monster on the outside.

Whatever you think. I am not coping. Not one bit. Nothing about this is fucking ok.

This isn’t fair. And it’s taking too long.

I am angry at the world today.

:*(

Spiralling Down

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One week. One week back in my cesspit hole of a job to feel myself start to tip off the side of sanity all over again.

I hate it. I hate my job so much it infects me. It putrefies my thoughts and tears tiny bits of my soul away, day by day. I can feel myself erupting on the inside over nothing. Something someone says, an insignificant remark makes my mind seethe and my blood burn with angry lust.

I am becoming scarred with bitter frustration.

I am broken.

I have a new boss, and he asked me this week after hearing my story if I had any fight left in me.

“you do don’t you… have fight left in you?” He asked me expectantly.

I just turned my head away. Biting back the tears.

” I don’t know”

And I really don’t know.

My old boss stole my confidence, and crushed my creativity.

” The thing is Sach…” He would say patronisingly.

“You got a big personality. You just need to be a bit less Sacha… you know?”

Cunt.

He hated me. He hated what I represented and made sure I knew it.

I am disgusted with myself that I could let a man beat me down and crush me the way he did, the way work has.

He left, but I have given up. I have nothing left, no fight, no drive, no ambition.

My entire being is bruise and I am exhausted.

I am Sacha, and I am beautiful, but, I am utterly broken.