The Death of a Creative Soul (AKA Why I Can't Work a Nine to Five)
Alarm rings at five, you wake up half dead from what feels like almost zero sleep. In a zombie like state you walk to the bathroom, you brush then shower and get ready for another of the exact same day at work. Driving to and from work is probably the best part of the day, alone with your thoughts, loud music blaring, you’re probably speeding, not because you want to get to work faster but because that’s probably the most thrill you’re going to get in the whole day. You park about 15 mins early, but just sit in the car thinking, is the money really worth wasting another precious day of your life? But you push through those thoughts and eventually get to work. The tasks at hand are so easy and monotonous that a monkey could be trained to do them, still you put on a poker face and get started. Not even an hour into the shift you’re done with your tasks, so what do you do? You find ways to appear busy, banters with your workmates help keep that last bit of sanity in you. You wish for time to go faster, but a watched pot never boils, and then finally, after what feels like eternity, the work day comes to an end. The drive home brings back a bit of joy and thrill in you, save for that time you’re driving behind the loser driving at 40 in a 60 zone. You get home and cook and clean and watch some TV or read, and get into bed at 9:30 to not feel so sleepy the next day, but wait, you still have to battle the demon that is insomnia! Exhausted with your existential thoughts, sleep finally arrives at 3:30, just for the alarm to ring 5.
