Member-only story
Productivity — A Poem
Nobody cares if you don’t feel sane. Life goes on and shit still gotta get done.
Nobody cares when your smile carries pain. A smile is a smile and a smile means you’ve won.
I refuse to see the sheen in my eyes. The tears unspent. The silent cries.
I choose not to hear the screams as they swell; the aches of my body signaling I’m not well.
I won’t tell myself no. I won’t say that I can’t. I keep moving forward, ignoring the chants.
The infinite warnings, the ceaseless cries. The physical toll that my accomplishments belie.
But I’m making mistakes and constantly fucking up. And rather than sit, I beat myself up.
I say it’ll be fine. It will all work out.
But it’s not.
And it won’t.
But still, I won’t stop.
Every gain that I make is rewarded with clout. With respect from my peers. With less and less doubt.
But inside I riot. I beg myself for rest. I’m a monster of my own making, killing myself with stress.
But since I want to be the face of success, I can’t say these words. I can’t submit to rest.
I force myself silent and pretend that it’s strength. I kill myself by inches on…
