How much am I really doing?
I thought that with academia behind me for now, things would be simpler. pressures would be less, the weight on my shoulders just a thicker coat to protect against wind and snow. Instead, Atlas and I look alike as I shift the weights of so many things around. my back hurts; the muscles knot up and don't release even in the blissful relaxation of dreaming. where did all this come from?
some are larger than others. mindless work day after day and i am anxious with the wait for something new, something better. I want more but my fingers are tangled deep and woven together and i can't move and now i can't breathe and the roof closes in so I can't see the snowflakes drifting outside.
how can I escape?