this job may be another thing that my illness will take from me.
i don’t let you see the times when tears fill my eyes at my desk because my brain is so tired and so full of fog that the noise in the office feels like a special kind of torture. or the days where i don’t leave this floor because stairs would just be a step too far. or when i have had to stand up longer than my muscles could cope with and i sink into my chair, my body shaking from the effort of it, all the time knowing i’m going home to a flat that i 