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A personal history of detachment

I feel rotten. It's been a slow and gradual development, like that of moisture creeping up your walls. By the time black mould & bulging paint appear you're looking at months even years of seeping dampness, some rain, some your disgusting broken sewage pipe buried under the floors. What I'm trying to say is it's never a sudden turn of events. There's always a history, and you have plenty of signs:

When you hear your new manager is 4 years younger than you.

When you find out every single aspect of the upcoming financial year business plan either irritates you or puts you into a coma.

When they group you by grades and all the people at your table look like they just graduated or reached puberty.

When the 20-something-year-old colleague of yours asks how old you are, out of the blue. 

The fact that you hide your age.

When they refer to someone as your boss's favourite. You didn't know your boss had a favourite. Your boss IS your favourite.

When you realise you haven't done anything -in years- that was just your own idea.

When you realise "it's always THEIR fault."

When you connect to people around you, 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, and only 25% of your lights ever come on. 75% are forever off, some broken, some forgotten. 

When you can't explain what it means to be detached yet painfully intertwined.

When you can't sleep at night.


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