I am invisible. Just like ever other day, I remain in sight of all the jostling humans in this office, but am constantly out of their minds. I am free to do whatever I want, but the imaginary leash holds on tight. Sometimes I think I'm lucky. I'm getting paid to stare into space amidst all the busy people. And then the thought jolts me from my tiny reverie- this could be my future.
I can hardly imagine myself three years down the road, living the life of a nine-to-six office robot. Yes, robots. Man, I hate that term. Who could imagine most intelligent of all creatures that roam the earth are, in fact, bounded by the inclination to work towards the big M? What is success? It's a status measured by the amount money you earn. We humans are reduced to calculative bastards who hunt and kill for success. Talk about being primitive.
I spend every weekday in this little box. The other occupants barely recognise my very existance. Once or twice I am tasked with some filing, some data entry. Right now, I'm just sitting comfortably in my chair and typing away while some data gets transferred to a round, metal object (they call it a DVD). The notion of performing brainless tasks alone kills me. Truth to be told, I hate sitting around with nothing to do. I need to run, scream, jump, or even prance around to keep myself occupied. Reduced brain activity can really bore the heck out of me. Trapped in what they call an office, there is nothing left for me to do (other than to rant to a computer- for God's sake!)my best to look preoccupied. Reason being so they will not see me playing with the swivel chair or fiddling with my electronic music-playing device one time too many...
And then I went for lunch. :D
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