It baffles me sometimes if I am still attuned with myself or the whiner in me just squeals too much. I don't know whom to reach and to air these concerns that were boiling inside me. It's a denial, but I don't want to reach a meltdown. Am I burning out? Stress becomes my lover now and I coy at the slightest indifference I want to show. I made love to stress everyday, and I don't know if I am still reaching climax. Flaccid. I want to rest. Deadlines meet deadlines and my sanity's hanging at balance. Breather. Breather. Breathe. Right now, I am staring at the monitor with nothing but a poker face and a carte blanche to complain. I'm trying my best not to whine. Let this blog be the sole witness.
The spirit's willing but the flesh is weak
to complain. As I've said before, I did my best to muster patience and to pocket my litany of complains. But the pocket's shallow and it overflows. Sigh. Sigh. Help. Help.