I like swirls better than circles. At least the path seems slightly different and it usually ends... somehow. I like neat little packages... yes, tied up with strings would be a good thing. Yet the pretty paper can never quite hide the grey that peeks behind the sunshine. The edge on the horizon of that laugh. When do you know when you're done? When the brainless work turns into a semblance of a career you never wanted? When you feel like a little hamster running on a wheel that never gets anywhere? When you dread the weekend because you spend it worrying about the same stuff you do all week... wait, you don't get weekends. When you cry more than the person telling you the sob story, you have the monopoly of horrible dreams and you can't stop screaming (of course, the last one is silent and in your head... otherwise you'd be in an actual asylum instead of the virtual one that is called your job). Nevertheless, you are in a cell.
Someone from that place once said something about the truth being on the horizon... my question was, why wasn't it here and now? Perhaps it was, hidden behind a pile of checklists and numbers that quantified what each little clone was worth. Perhaps it was, rendered invisible by the garish florescent lighting and endless drone of the high and mighty idiots.... who really should not have been given a license to think. Perhaps it was, inside all along... wondering why I stayed. Why I was bought so easily by trinkets and change.
The realization that I've tossed a few years, is a hard pill to swallow. Sometimes stepping back out into what could be a storm is a daunting task. However, the alternative is the never ending ringing, beeping, buzzing and droning of the stupid... on daily conference calls, text messages, visual voicemails, emails and all other media made possible... In mY cELL.
P. S. As of this week, I am no longer in retail bondage... I am now out of my cell!!!
P. P. S. I also no longer have that phone.
