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You’re not good enough. Your lipstick isn’t right. The shade is too dark, you’ve eaten half of it. The trousers don’t match the trend. You didn’t spend enough. The shirt is too short. Shit, he’s staring, is my dupatta in place? Oh crap. Where’s my dupatta? Don’t stretch in the staff-room. Don’t talk to the male staff. Smile and walk away. Smile and walk away. Good Lord, you had to make eye contact. Everybody’s going to be talking. How dare you?
Every day is a struggle. I can’t get out of bed looking forward to a new day. I was passionate. I was here on my own choice. I wanted this. I prayed for it. You make me regret it. I don’t care what I wear but your judgemental eyes make me assess my whole wardrobe. No, I don’t wear a dupatta often and yes, I don’t like tulip pants. Yes, this is so last year and yes, I do look good in it and I will wear it every week if I want to. Who are you?
Don’t tell me what my job is and don’t tell me if I don’t do it I will be solely responsible. Don’t promise me things you can’t do and then don’t question my loyalty to the office. I’m 23. I’m not a baby. Who are you?
Yes, I’ll talk to him if I want to, and no I’m not involved with him because we smiled. Don’t tell me I’m young and emotional as if it’s a weakness and yes, I get angry too. Don’t lie to my face and then ask for respect. No, we’re not on the same page and yes you give me anxiety. Who are you?
So today I’ll dress up nice and I’ll stay in bed a little longer. I’ll quickly write a resignation letter and I’ll tell you it’s completely personal. I’ll write how I regret leaving the office and how I will miss my associations here. But don’t be fooled. I will walk out and leave you helpless and angry, you’ll call a meeting, and you’ll tell them I was crazy and unprofessional. I never did my work on time. I was disloyal and rude.
And when you go home tonight and you close your eyes to sleep, you’ll see the faces of everybody nodding in agreement. But baby don’t be fooled, I’ll tell you what you don’t know, they wished they had the guts to walk out on you and they envy me right now.
So when I put down my pen tonight and get a good night’s sleep. You’ll stare at the ceiling and you’ll watch the shadows creep. You’ll replay every encounter and you’ll wonder if you were fair. I hope I give you anxiety and you have a hard time going to sleep.
Who am I?