The curtains act like bars, the sight from the inside of a cell. Sleep, eat, work,
and socialize in the confined spaces of this cubical. As I walk in circles in pondering thoughts, the light out the window fades. While I write down the digressive list of things that must be done, the light out the window fades. As I sit in front of this blue light in front of me, I miss the one that rises and falls every day. Life skips me by because I work on progression.
But is success getting in the way of happiness? What I can’t even call success keeps me away from friends, family, and time. But if I had a dime for every time I passed up those opportunities to be by myself, I wouldn’t need to work as hard as I am now. So maybe it’s meant for me to be in this cubical alone, while the world slowly burns, and I lose the chance to lay in flowers and stair at clouds when years from now it’s replaced with dirt and smog.