You and your
Hollow
Hyper-defensive
Emotionally brittle self
A curmudgeon in cashmere
Being just as splenetic
On the way home
I imagined you dying
Screaming and alone
I wished for you to self-exterminate
---
Ugh! Damn it!
I will feel like the villain later
For all my intrusive and deliberate thoughts
Try as I might, I'm still too sensitive
Too thin-skinned for this job
If only I were too sexy
I'd let perceived cruelties fly by
My eyes would always be dry
Instead ...
I request hugs from co-workers
Replay conversations till my brain bleeds
What is it they say about good deeds
Well, douchebags go unpunished
And the universe is not interested
And I still wish I was unaffected
Inspired by a work event that almost brought me to tears—and a well-meaning co-worker who talked me down from the ledge. I wonder if my sensitivity is exhausting for others to deal with.
I grew up on “You’re too sensitive! Just suck it up!” Well-meaning, of course—to save me from all the hurt. Half a century and I’m still choking on the effort. I can’t get being thick-skinned and insensitive right.
I’ve lost count of how many times someone’s told me not to take it personally, Or said, “I don’t think he meant it that way.” “He behaves like that with everybody.” As if behaving like that towards everybody makes the behaviour all right.
And it’s true, I see that he behaves like that with everyone and I feel awful for them while wishing I could shrug it off like they seem to do when he behaves that way towards me.
I wish I could say, “Oh. It’s the CEO being his opposite from charismatic self!”— What’s the opposite of charisma?
He doesn’t draw people in, he drags them down. His presence doesn’t inspire—it deflates. He’s not magnetic, he’s corrosive.
— But it burrows straight into my nervous system. It’s been seven years, shouldn’t I be accustom to his narcissistic brand of toxicity by now. Maybe I need a device to warn me of when he’s gonna suck the beating out of my heart, If I know it is coming will that prepare me for it.
Should I be grateful that he is a consistent shit bag.
But nothing prepares me for his outburst.And that thing my Dad says rings in my ears, “Your feelings are not my problem (or responsibility).” (heavy sign with Snoopy cry).
Writing helps me deal. And I might put this to a poem later. 😍 How do you learn to prevent people from infecting you with their … grossness.
© 2025 Samantha Williams. All Rights Reserved.
