I used to work really hard. So hard I almost killed myself.
I used to praise the people that worked hard and mimic them.
Until burn out came knocking, and I was forced to ask myself WHY.
Working hard is a cover up for “I am so insecure, I need to prove to people that don’t give a shit about me that I am worthy, smart and capable.”
Working hard is code for, the system screwed me. It is code for injustice. The system that values wealth accumulation, income inequality and global warming. I have to work 5 jobs to pay my rent, when my rich neighbor is getting richer.
Working hard is an escape from myself. It is because I cannot fucking stand sitting alone and noticing how I feel. It is my alcohol, Instagram, my addiction.
Working hard is ignorance. Because I was young, and my narcissistic boss told me it is the only way.
Working hard means I am stupid. Because I am not stopping and finding ways to work smarter.
Working hard is selfish. For I am robbing my family and friends from my presence, love and attention.
I am no longer buying your excuses of hard work to save the world.
I am no longer singing your praises, when I see you soulless and close to burn out.
I am no longer getting inspired by your work ethics, because I now live for my life ethics.
I am simply asking you, why my friend.
Pre-order your copy of child of the moon my first illustrated book of poetry:
about child of the moon:
in between being your mother and father
i forgot to be your daughter
and became the child of the moon
inspired by the author’s traumatic childhood experiences and set against the backdrop of the lebanese civil war, child of the moon is a powerful collection of poetry reflecting on fear, shame, despair, suicide, and the unconditional love that leads to healing.
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