My Useless Self. [Prose Poem]

The workplace is bustling.
Shipping time is fast approaching, and everyone is in a panic.

My senior is rushing to prepare documents,
and the veteran employee is packing the products.

Amidst all this, I am just standing there, all alone.

What am I supposed to do?

In a space where everyone is moving busily,
I am the only one working on a task that isn't urgent.

My mind is anxious,
but my body won't move.

Even passing a message from the veteran to my senior
is something I can't do well at all.

I can't even catch
the instructions given to me in a rush.

Even when I try to act on my senior's behalf,
I can't find the courage to take that step.

I'm furious.
At myself like this,
I'm furious.

You useless person.

Neither my senior nor the veteran says such things.
No one blames me.

That is what I hate.

A kindness that feels as if
they never expected anything from me in the first place.
But that is only natural.
Because, in reality, I'm not getting anything done.

Every time I am asked to act with flexibility,
I freeze up.
Once the routine is broken,
I immediately lose my way.

I want to punish myself.
I even wonder if someone like me deserves to be paid.

You, useless person.