There’s an edge that has crept into my voice. An unmistakable edge with everyone i talk to except those who do not want anything from me.

I can talk today for an hour to a watchman but not for a second from someone who needs my advice or my skill or wants to help me get my work done

I am snapping at too many people who respect me but who i do not respect in turn.

The more polite i attempt to get, the sharper the edge becomes.

There’s no way they cannot make out.

Every time the phone rings, i know there’s something someone is expecting of me. Every phone call is a reminder of the lack of my skills or planning or failure to delegate or inability to say no or something.

Every repeat phone call which i didn’t pick earlier is a cause of apology. Every unnecessary apology takes something out of me, something which never comes back. There are 60 to make. I cannot bear to look at the call list.

Guilt. Inadequacy. Stress. Absolute annoyance at the fact of being exploited, taken for granted, taken for a ride. Absolute annoyance at self for the self pity.

Nothing left to give.

Nothing left to get.

What used to make me me? From where do i find that reservoir of everything of myself which has been poured down the drain?

Where do i stop? How do i stop? How do i start again?

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