Every day is exactly the same

Oh the horrific monotony of it all. How does one describe the continuous melee of daily boredom that pervades my life? In my long career of shuffling 1's and 0's around, sitting in a gray or blue cubicle staring at a gaudy Windows machine hours at a time, has been the bane of my existence. I go to work every day, my only friend a oscillating desk fan, he helps drown out the mundane. If I'm lucky, at lunch I'll eat more than a cup of soup. I might have some yogurt. Really? This is what constitutes what we call a life? I'm done. Find me a deserted island somewhere. And I don't need a volleyball.

The multitude of silly little things that we humans deem as important, drive me insane. In the grand scheme of things, does anything we do even matter at all? The best one can hope for in life is being able to retire a few years before death. And hopefully, that death will come quickly. No lingering for months or years in a nursing home. But if that does happen, I'm sure I'll have a desk fan.

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