I wasn't used to being below par
The first time it happened, lamed the tester
The second time, I found faults with the test
Excuses followed: the system, the culture, the skill, the will
But soon it was the norm
I am just average now, most times
And occasionally, I am not good enough
I wasn't used to being below parBut I found I was anyway, and that I don't care
I didn't think life could be so tiring
But I was wrong too, for I am exhausted
I didn't believe I had no ambition
But I do not now dream any dreams at all
I did know I was fungible and replaceable
But now I realize I don't need me even in my own life
I asked myself what mattered
And answers started dying up
Love, friendship, happiness, purpose
Reduced to mere good-to-haves
What for, then, to wake up from the sleep?
Where to find the energy to breathe?
Why don't I stop asking silly questions?
Is it all over yet, or shall I repeat?