I left my last job because I got concerned that my inordinately high disinterest level might be bad for my heart. I’m pretty certain that my body – due to my extreme lack of engagement - was about 80% convinced I was done using it. Body: “Wow, nothing’s happened for quite a while… shut it down?” I’m simply not able to thrive in cubicle monotony. It exposes my weaknesses as a person, and I end spending most of the day engaged in the slow act of crumpling, either physically or emotionally. People would have a hard time finding me at my desk, because my spine would often give out (in my executive rolling chair) under the weight of the excessive sadness in my bones.
The recycled air and general attitude of the place was so toxic it could ripen fruit in real time. I once watched a banana go from green to black within seconds at a finance meeting. At my cubicle, my body/sense of personal identity was very similar to that experiment where you pour coke on raw meat and leave it to decompose… Me: “Not to worry folks! That’s just my self rotting away in real time under these fluorescent lights.” But not everybody’s like that! Some people really thrive in these contained pits of nothingness. It’s like, once they realize that what they actually do in life will no longer be of consequence, they become like pigs in shit. Pigs in Shit: “We made it! Free! See ya in 30 years, stupid idiot life!”
My coworkers were so much stronger than me. While I spent my time at work internally apologizing to the universe for continuing to feed oxygen to an innocuous meat sack (me!)… My co-workers, in that exact same position, would just roll over to Island Burger for lunch, big smiles on their faces, and No existential burden whatsoever… instead, just feeding themselves bottomless fries. Man, I respect the shit out of those people. They’re sticking through it, flashing bravery in the face of unwitting self sacrifice. Me, I just quit because I thought it was going to make my heart stop... to each his own.
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