Dissonant

I don’t like how it’s “normal” for people to live like slaves.
When you say, “I don’t want to work like this,” or, “I’m constantly unhappy and stressed,”
they answer with,
“That’s how working is.”
“That’s how it’ll always be.”

I wish I could shut my mouth,
but I find myself revealing my inner troubles to people I wouldn’t even speak a word to outside of work—
just because they’re the only ones around me often,
and I need to talk,
to let someone know how I feel—desperately.
To be heard. To be listened to.
Even though I know they won’t.

I don’t belong here.
But life makes me stay.
And I don’t like it.
I won’t obey it.