(no subject)
I've finally gone over the edge, but I'm still holding on, still feeling like I can somehow pull the world back up and over on my aching shoulders. I have been missing some time, yet still finding ways to tread water and keep the ship afloat. I'm manning the pumps, patching the leaks with charm, excuses and almost blatant manipulation of the corporate system. I feel so bad for Tracy because she doesn't have the seniority, connections or paid time off to do the same. The fact is, I'm as indispensible as anyone in my position who has seemingly hit the glass ceiling could be. I know enough people and have enough pull that I can get away with as much as I do at this point in time. If I'm going down, I'm not going down without a fight.
The only thing that has kept me above water is the overwhelming iron will, the determination to beat anything and everything that is thrown at me. It's the "these two boots of mine" mentality that keeps the ship steered on compass, through the storm, and onto to something better.
Part of this stress can be contributed to the fact that I refuse to let go of the wheel for one moment, no matter what. As nuch as it drains me to do this, I fear the loss of control more than anything else. It's as if I'm standing there, like a exhausted but still defiant boxer, daring life to throw it's worst left hook.
What comes next? I don't know, but I'll either ride it out and make the best of it, or finally go down in a blaze of glory. It's better to burn out than fade away. That's the belief that's carrying me through. Death or Glory, I'm not settling for anything else. I take so much pride in the fact that through everything, I'm still going. I'm still here, boots strapped on tight, holding my head high, and giving the middle finger to the world.
"Come on, give me your best shot, motherfucker!"
The only thing that has kept me above water is the overwhelming iron will, the determination to beat anything and everything that is thrown at me. It's the "these two boots of mine" mentality that keeps the ship steered on compass, through the storm, and onto to something better.
Part of this stress can be contributed to the fact that I refuse to let go of the wheel for one moment, no matter what. As nuch as it drains me to do this, I fear the loss of control more than anything else. It's as if I'm standing there, like a exhausted but still defiant boxer, daring life to throw it's worst left hook.
What comes next? I don't know, but I'll either ride it out and make the best of it, or finally go down in a blaze of glory. It's better to burn out than fade away. That's the belief that's carrying me through. Death or Glory, I'm not settling for anything else. I take so much pride in the fact that through everything, I'm still going. I'm still here, boots strapped on tight, holding my head high, and giving the middle finger to the world.
"Come on, give me your best shot, motherfucker!"