Nothing is ever straightforward. Everything is a fucking paradox. Every question has not two but a multitude of answers.
Walking to the job of my dreams feels like being led to the gallows. I am not okay with a building being mismanaged, yet I pay to go to a country where they embrace decay. I felt soul dead in a prestigious job paying three times what I earn now, but I feel alive in this job where I am an essential worker, yet get treated like not.
An elderly patient is yelling at me because his constipation medication is not in stock, indignant with fear or helplessness, lost in aimless rage against nearing mortality, blocked physically and energetically — I can’t blame him because he is my karmic mirror, a reflection of me when I burn with anonymous anger. I used to be a walking emotional contagion. But now the buck stops with me.
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