I am sitting at my desk with nothing to do except write crap, I don’t even know whether I would publish it or not. What a day it has been.
I came to office to a merciless dressing down from my ex-manager because I failed to hear what he said over the deafening traffic and because I “dared” to ask him for a charge code for the work I was supposed to be doing for him. Add to that wadas so soggy, they almost made me choke and the unbearable stench of stale coffee all over me because I managed to spill it down the front of my pale yellow shirt, which is now irreversibly ruined.
‘A’ thinks I am bored of talking to him, ‘coz I managed to fall asleep for three consecutive days on the phone.
None of my friends are online.
I feel like breaking something.
I feel like tearing off this foul smelling shirt and jumping on my maddeningly white desk; naked.
I feel like pulling out and shredding every piece of poetry, every picture, every thought I have put up on my cramped cubicle wall.
I feel like crouching under my desk, running away from this unforgiving world like a kid.
I feel like ending my career before it has even begun.
I want a chance to wipe the slate clean once again and begin anew ..
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