it used to be that i could just sit here in my cube and do my work (or not work) and i didn't really feel anything towards anybody here. if they talked to me, fine. if they did not talk to me, better.

but now, it's worse because the indifference runs both ways. there is this invisible curtain between myself and my co-workers, something that feels like a widening fissure, and their voices are getting smaller and smaller and smaller. i know the strength of my voice, and i am sure it already sounds like whispering even though i am speaking as loud as i know how.

communication through email, through voicemail. very rarely does someone talk to me directly. they will walk right past my cube, sit down at their computer and email me rather than stop to tell me what needs to be done.

when i first got here, i was friendly and talkative. i acted interested, even though i usually didn't have anything to say to add to whatever someone was telling me; more often than not our frames of reference were completely different.

this didn't bother me, though, because it was all new and i was learning and people were appreciative of what i did.

and though i am sure they didn't really understand me, they were friendly all the same.

i think, though, that the initial friendliness i exhibited was a function of just being thankful i had a way to escape southern california. the suffocating darkness i felt there was like seeing the world through eyes sealed shut with electrical tape, wrists bound tight behind me, knees bloody and raw from falling down every step. it was horrible. the entire month of february left welts and deep scars across my back.

so, to be able to escape that, to be hopeful that coming up here would somehow make it easier to wash myself clean of the marks on my skin, it made me almost giddy.

i drove up on my birthday with everything i could fit into my little car, no room, not sure what i was going to do or where i was going to live a month later. i worked my last day of my last job on wednesday, packed my car and said my goodbyes on thursday, drove up on friday and started working that following monday. the two days in between were not given to reflection or planning, rather to moving boxes and trying to find a small space in the tiny apt that i shared with my brother and sister.

so i haven't had a rest, a mental rest, a chance to settle myself, since well before i drove up on april 6th. before that, i was a mess of looking for a job, figuring out how i was going to move, and trying to figure out what to do with my first real heartbreak.

i thought that once i got my living situation figured out and i was able to settle into my job, i would finally be able to breathe a sigh of relief and start a new life. this, however, was wishful thinking on a colossal scale. more than anything, settling into my new job has shown me how very not suited to the corporate world i am. there's absolutely nothing about it that appeals to me, other than, of course, the money.

and that's not all that appealing when you feel as if you are losing yourself, little by little, with everytime you kow-tow to someone you don't respect, or take on a project you couldn't care less about simply because you are the clean-up person for the team.

so, as you must have well noted, i have been unhappy here for quite a stretch of time.

this unhappiness has made me quiet, and i cannot animate my face or reactions enough to hide the fact that something is wrong from those around me.

so, now, they don't know what to do with me. i am serious and quiet. i work hard and finish my tasks completely and efficiently. my voice is quiet and eyes are usually to the floor. i am not part of the team. and though corporate sales is not something i could care less about, i am here for the majority of my awake life. so, to feel so utterly outside of whatever is going on here is very lonely. and makes me very sad.

"what's wrong? everything alright?" "yeah, i'm fine, i am just not sleeping well" "oh...um...try some tea before bed" "hey, thanks...i'll try that"

i haven't had a decent night's sleep in the last 7 months. if i slept through the night it was usually either because i was sick and had glorious nyquil to knock me out, or because i had something to drink before bed. this is no way to live.

my dreams are usually dark and having to do with control in some way. i often dream of enormous waves crashing over me or those i love, pulling us out deep into the ocean. many times i let myself go limp, letting the sea push me the way i need to go. i think this letting go is important, it's something i need to learn to do while i'm awake.

i need to finally figure out a way to not be here anymore.

writing might be the way out for me. this scares me to death. because it means facing fear of failure, fear of mediocrity, having to face the fact that the inside of me is much uglier and needier than i want to admit. it means really pulling myself apart and seeing what i am made of.

and i am afraid of what i will find there.