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Falling asleep at your desk. Crippling shoulder pain. The tendency to stare into the abyss, coffee cup sagging in hand. Spilling coffee on your keyboard. Fluorescent lighting tinging your skin green. Uncontrollable weeping. Sleep-typing. Spilling tea on the kitchen floor. Mopping the tea up with paper towel. Watching your breath fog the third story windows as proof of life. Screaming alone in your car on the way to work. Sudden urges to violence with paperclips. Repeatedly calling IT about the ringing sound in your headset. Hearing the ringing sound on the tram. Viciously elbowing fellow passengers on the tram. Daydreaming that the ceiling vents will cave in and rats will pour over you in an unstoppable wave. Compulsively hitting refresh on your Facebook page. Shovelling cake into your mouth at morning tea like you’re starving. Your jaw hurts from constant clenching. Sometimes you can taste blood for no reason. Feeling guilty for not using your standing desk enough. Feeling guilty for eating too much bread. Reheating half-drunk cups of cold tea. Shaking toast crumbs out of your keyboard every morning. Your face in the mirror, a scratchy, unrecognisable blur.

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About the author:

Lisa Rodrigues

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Lisa Rodrigues is a Eurasian Australian poet in her 30-somethings and spends most of her time in government desk jobs. She writes about love, loss, working life, and finding meaning in a confusing and fractured world. She writes on her personal blog under the pseudonym endofnext.

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