Off

 I came downstairs, jubilant.  The best I've felt in a long time.  I quit coffee and booze, successfully might I add, on Dec. 30, 2021.  I felt like I was drinking steadily since 2020.  I've been tired since, with the traveling, peopling, and finally,  quarantining.  Not tired. Exhausted and on the last fumes.

I've been cuddly all day, snuggly since last night.  You asked me how I felt.  Elated, I hugged you, and then I was jolted back into the numbing reality of your resentment.

"I wish I could get a day off. Oh, wait, I can't."

Just like that, my sunny day turned dark and stormy.  The guilt I feel when I heal is unhealthy.   It makes me hold my tongue, and I can't even look you in the eye anymore because I feel guilty for merely existing.

Misery loves company, so I'm better off in my own company.  

The PO

 Although this time is stressful, and it's easier said than done, take this time to recuperate, because you're not the only one, to deal with the madness, of the local PO, who fires the willing, and only promotes the slow.  It'll take time, but chances are you'll be back with backpay.

Weak

 When I ask you for something, 

to do something, 

to not do something, 

and you ignore me, 

I feel 

physically weak 

and mentally drained.

I recall 

when people 

used to listen to me, 

when my words 

held value, 

and how much 

brighter my soul felt.

Now, 

all I feel 

is silence, 

for being silenced, 

for words 

without weight 

amongst the deaf 

and unwilling 

are futile at best 

and preposterous at worst.

These words 

are like 

plugging a rowboat 

with a drill.

These words 

are ten elephants 

balancing on 

a single beach ball.

Silence

Like there is no point in speaking

So I retreat

Because I have 

no energy to fight 

for I have been weakened.  

I've lost my spirit.  

I've forgotten my spark. 

I've dulled my light 

with this chemical dependency.

This year will be tough, but from it, I will grow.