The Undomestic Goddess

I suppose, just occasionally, I do feel as though someone’s piling heavy weights on me. Like big concrete blocks, one on top of the other, and I have to keep holding them up, no matter how exhausted I am

suddenly know it, with the deepest certainty I’ve ever felt. I don’t fit; I don’t relate. Maybe I did once, but not any more. I can’t do this. I can’t spend my life in meeting rooms.

If I drink enough coffee maybe it’ll jolt me alive. Maybe I’ll stop feeling as though I’m in a dream.

It’s almost as if I can feel the concrete blocks being loaded on to me again. More and more of them. Heavier and heavier.