Thousand yard stare

I feel like I died a long time ago. The Steven of the 20s, the smart one, the successful one. I remember writing that I had no hope.

And I feel like I died again two years ago, when I took two jobs.
When I began rationalizing "I have to take care of the moneymaker." When I accepted that my contribution to the family was reduced to 💰, even if it was large amounts of money.

And I died again during the holiday season, when my schedule didn't change - both jobs on my birthday (let's not talk about birthdays), both jobs on Christmas. It's not a holiday if I don't truly celebrate it, if I have to ration my waking hours for the evening and night of work.
And once again, I hate the holiday season - the cheap fake Hallmark, the chase of the gift, and a terribly unsatisfying payoff.

4/27/2019: " I am not worried about Atlas shrugging
I'm worried that someday poor Atlas will just drop dead."

5/6/2019: "Anyone else wonder how in the hell you got from where you were 15 years ago to where you are now?"

7/19/2019: "Something has to change."

8/27/2019: " I feel like I need to get back into the game. I don't know if there's room, and I don't know if I can make it work. But..."

8/27/2019: "Trying to properly set my sleep schedule based on my totally screwed up work schedule sometimes goes sideways, and I'm awake when I need to be sleeping, and..."

9/22/2019: "The problem with being a overworked isolated reticent introvert
Is that you'd never be able to tell if I was giving you the silent treatment."

1/1/2020: "Just busy giving life the ol' John Henry."
(Yeah. Compared my life to the black folk hero who worked himself to death.)

1/22/2020: "It 's easy when you're ¾ dead and numb on the inside."
(And again and again)

1/24/2020: "I have learned how much I can endure.
I haven't yet learned how long I can endure it."
(Ha!)

2/12/2020: "So much work.
There is no rest until death."