At this point i am in tears. I do not know how much more i can take. I am writing because i am tired of telling you about my problems. I have complained almost everyday about one thing or the other, and you have listened. You have talked me into laughter, and dried my tears before they fall. You have made me feel alive when beaten down, and still i have never heard you complain. You have never, even once, shown that you are busy when i needed an ear, but i know that time will come. I feel you have done too much, and i dont want to push you away by telling you more. That’s why i am writing this.
Today has been a bad day. I have told you about it, but there is still more. I have been scolded infront of my juniors, and shouted at infront of my peers. I have been mocked by my superiors and the shame is driving me crazy.
I am tired of writing about it like it is something to laugh about. When i tell the stories, i throw in alot of humour so that it masks the pain. The responses i receive lift me up and allow me to look at every negative situation as an opportunity for a new post. I am fed up of hiding behind all the laughter. I may be calling for pity, but what does it matter.
I pity myself for keeping this job when i dont really need it. But is it wrong to want to start a life as early as possible so i can have something when i leave campus? Is it too much to ask to have a boss who understands that its my first job and i will make mistakes? Further more is it too much to ask that i dont be over worked on the account that i need to study too?
This is too much for me. I cry now, but deep down i know i will be here tomorrow and the day after. I will be here till the end of the year and i will watch my salary being cut off because i took a day off to sit for a test, and a few more days to sit for my final exam.
But the tears are comforting. Somehow they help me understand that i am human. They help me know that i am reaching my end.
Maybe this isnt good for me.
Almost everyday i get reminded of how replacable i am. How i am almost a liability, and how i do not deserve to be spoken to in soft tones. Everyday i am reminded that being young is a crime. A crime with a sentence that has no end. Everyday i laugh at the jokes told about me, and pretend i am not bothered.
I grow my hair, he says it is not good enough.
I buy more hair, he says i should hide my face.
I cut it off, he notices it is like for a maid.
I laugh because i know this is the only time i will enjoy him not shouting at me. Anyother conversation is almost a call for my resignation.
The tears i hold back, i will cry when i leave, because i just realised, if i go on with this post as i let it all fall, i will not have the guts to hold my head high.
And just as i am about to end this, he calls and say, ‘hey, would you please put headed paper in the printer, oh and thank you so much for staying late yesterday!’
It is always in the small things!
He gets me!
That alone makes me feel that i can make it to the end (whenever that is).
Im done crying. Scratch everything i said above!
i will say it even if it kills me.