The day starts out quiet, almost empty. The room is dark, a few people in and talking. People laugh and yet you feel alone. They're not your friends (probably won't ever be your friends) and you chuckle at their jokes, pretending you get it but you really don't. You don't share more personal stories—why should you when you know it's going to reach the smallest crevices of the institution? So you offer them morsels of your life; something they'd probably see on your social media pages. That would give them something to talk about, you think.
The day starts officially when the boss comes in. You sit there, typing away, staring at a white screen, words coming out and yet none of it making sense. Not to you, at least. You're interested but not too much. You can't sit still—you've never learned how to sit still. Or maybe you're thirsty for more? Whichever case, you can't sit still at all.
So you take your mug and pull out a tea bag, hoping to calm yourself and keep your zen. But as fate would have it, as soon as you have your calm, someone barges in and disturbs it. Ah, yes. It's the one person who always seems to test your patience. All arrogance without levelling. The superiority complex personified.
It was the one person who essentially ran you down and it pissed you off to no end.
So you choose to ignore him, pretend he was invisible. He was of no importance to you or your life. He wasn't your friend and he certainly won't be anything else to you than just a co-worker. He leaves after he talks to your co-workers, not even bothered that he didn't greet you either. The morning passes on until lunch time comes.
You take your lunch bag and leave, not even bothering to say anything to anyone.
And then you stand in front of the elevator, choosing to get lunch with the few friends you had in the office that wasn't in the one where you were assigned. Chaos was going on inside your head, hidden beneath bright smiles and loud laughter. You were good at that—hiding your feelings. You always thought vulnerability was something you shouldn't show to anyone.
You get off on the third floor—you've never really talked to anyone in the fourth floor. Lunch was a nice affair; a little teasing, a little eating, a few laughs here and there. But the loneliness was still there—hidden away by smiles and laughter. You've been lonely and sad for a while now but you didn't want anyone to know.
So you laugh and smile, continuing to pretend you're okay.
Lunch break ends and you go back down to your office. You sit down, type away again, pretending to be interested when you're really not. This was getting routine and you hated routine. But it's what you had so you were going to go and live with it—at least until you were confident enough to leave. Your phone buzzes and it signalled the end of your day.
And just like routine, you shut off your computer, you fix your bag, and you say goodbye.
It was time to go and you walk out, not even feeling the slightest bit guilty. Check out, the bundy clock reads. A press of a finger, a small beep, and you're officially off. You say your goodbyes to everyone you come across, leaving the building behind and walk off. You're starting to hate the days as it is.
Calm down and keep on, you think to yourself.
You're about to leave soon.
So you take your mug and pull out a tea bag, hoping to calm yourself and keep your zen. But as fate would have it, as soon as you have your calm, someone barges in and disturbs it. Ah, yes. It's the one person who always seems to test your patience. All arrogance without levelling. The superiority complex personified.
It was the one person who essentially ran you down and it pissed you off to no end.
So you choose to ignore him, pretend he was invisible. He was of no importance to you or your life. He wasn't your friend and he certainly won't be anything else to you than just a co-worker. He leaves after he talks to your co-workers, not even bothered that he didn't greet you either. The morning passes on until lunch time comes.
You take your lunch bag and leave, not even bothering to say anything to anyone.
And then you stand in front of the elevator, choosing to get lunch with the few friends you had in the office that wasn't in the one where you were assigned. Chaos was going on inside your head, hidden beneath bright smiles and loud laughter. You were good at that—hiding your feelings. You always thought vulnerability was something you shouldn't show to anyone.
You get off on the third floor—you've never really talked to anyone in the fourth floor. Lunch was a nice affair; a little teasing, a little eating, a few laughs here and there. But the loneliness was still there—hidden away by smiles and laughter. You've been lonely and sad for a while now but you didn't want anyone to know.
So you laugh and smile, continuing to pretend you're okay.
Lunch break ends and you go back down to your office. You sit down, type away again, pretending to be interested when you're really not. This was getting routine and you hated routine. But it's what you had so you were going to go and live with it—at least until you were confident enough to leave. Your phone buzzes and it signalled the end of your day.
And just like routine, you shut off your computer, you fix your bag, and you say goodbye.
It was time to go and you walk out, not even feeling the slightest bit guilty. Check out, the bundy clock reads. A press of a finger, a small beep, and you're officially off. You say your goodbyes to everyone you come across, leaving the building behind and walk off. You're starting to hate the days as it is.
Calm down and keep on, you think to yourself.
You're about to leave soon.
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