Weakness

I’ll rest on my own strength, but I am not strong. On my own strength: but I am weak. Who am I to support myself? So much money spent. So much money – every day. To the cashpoint and again to the cashpoint, thirty pounds a time. Never any money. Crisis always. Used to it, though – but sometimes, feeling week, I am unused to it again and look up at the sky, and think: when will I have money so that it accumulates monthly in my bank account? When enough money not to worry very much about money? Enough to let it gather, month upon month.

Weakness: tired in my office and hoping no one will come in. Weak, and hoping to be left alone. What will I say? What am I to say? The crisis continues; it’ll continue until at least the end of the month. Crisis – but when I am strong, it never bothers me. Strong, I am a player among players. Dress smartly, I tell myself, wear your jacket. And so I do; wander about in my jacket. Work carefully, I tell myself, don’t be caught out – and so I work with great care, rounding off every task. How organised I am! But then weakness returns. I am weak again; my nose bleeds, rising nausea and the old, old tiredness. What will happen? How will it all turn out?