Eat Me Alive

This is not a new thing.
I have always been planning to leave.
One day.
One fine day.

I think everyone will come to a stage of wanting to leave the mundane, stress contributing rat race that they are in and settle for something lesser in psychology burden before they really do collapse mentally, physically, entirely.

My arm, shoulder, back and fingers are numb.
I think it's some muscle spasm. It's been a week I have trouble consistently putting my hand on the desk trying to reply emails. My emotion is so low. It's like working in great enduring pain.
I don't know if it's the pain of the swollen muscle or merely the stress of having to turn up to this stage with a crowd I am not comfortable with.

I cannot stretch my hand at work. The width of the banquet table where I am seated doesn't permit that. I will be crossing the border to another person's desktop.
I felt the cramp, the close proximity and the uneasiness of this destined spot of mine.
I guess I ought to be grateful. Because people around me are sane. On the othwer end of this crowded community, it's crazy.
But I am not happy.

Merely a servant to the divine clan.
Merely an existence.
Merely a presence for survival.

I am not happy.
That rewards are based on how well you fare in abiding to nonsensical request,
I don't take nonsense as part of my work.
You go figure the outcome.

Everyday, it's eating me up.
With people making decision based on personal favour.
With decision bearing ridiculous personal growth.
I think I have been stunted.
In my believe to self worth, to passion and to live.

I am not happy.

Eat me alive.