The human husk

Gosh. I am drained today. Clawing away at little pieces of work and grinding through the day. It has been full on today. Once again, my competence has been called into question again. It is usual for rumour to chatter on when the team isn't winning and I hate the feeling of "not winning". I shouldn't be too bothered as I never did define myself by my job title anyway. But I am. I am sick of losing. I am trying hard to be motivated, to give an arse about life, to be an asset to somebody. Yet all I am now is a husk of a human being; empty, worthless, blown wherever the wind takes me. When I close my eyes, I often think of being borne afloat by heavenly tendrils, suspending me and slowly leeching away at me till I become a vapor and drift so far apart that I cease to become. It is strangely restful. Some times I lie in bed, with my arms across my chest as if I were a Pharoah in a sarcophagus and it just feels peaceful. I see my friends getting all excited about buying houses, cars, clothes and the latest i-shit from Apple. I envy them. For at least they find numerous things amongst them that excite them. Me? I find myself more and more at odds with the world. The square peg in a round hole. Y'know, I left Singapore because it no longer fit me and now I find that it doesn't really matter where I go. I ain't gonna fit either. I have read numerous books about knowing myself and finding out what I want and yet, the more I read, the less I seem to know. What now? What now indeed... I remember (ironically from some SPRING productivity course that I was forced to attend during NS) that the speaker spoke about being "dead at 30, buried at 70". And I am now that lifeless husk, sucked into the tedium of existence.