I might be getting slightly closeted – My Civil Service #19

in #rambling • 6 years ago (edited)

I'm growing restless day by day. I'm really feeling like I'm alienating myself from my service place. I'm actually writing fiction inspired of it which I might start releasing soonTM. But sometimes the line between fiction and reality is quite blurred, you might figure what part of it is real and what not if you have wasted your time gracefully read my beautiful sentences of the past. It's really quite strange; as if I wasn't even here. I'm just drifting in my balloon wanting to write to keep my uncomfortable feeling of "needing to be as if I was useful" away. I spend so much time on my computer yet nobody has asked what's that I'm typing all the time. One time my instructor assumed I'm playing some games, lol. I still prefer it this way – but 7 months! And nobody knows what I actually do here when I've fulfilled my pathetic duties.

My story starts to sound like someone who's locked in a jail with a typewriter, the only thing one can to avoid insanity, unavoidably becoming obsessed with it. Writing thousands and thousands of words per day just for the sake of having something to do.
Honestly, I don't know how the standing janitor keeps his sanity in place with browsing news for 8 hours a day (and karma compilations on YouTube).

I just wanna fill the paper with useless junk, it's kinda my guilty pleasure, juuust a little bit taste of that sweet cream to satisfy my desire. Oh, how much do I like it, crunching the hard surface of a beautifully brown cake and bursting out that soft core of bliss running on my cheeks. Oh, lunch hour again, and I'm making myself even more hungry by talking about food. But it's one of those days again when I don't actually feel like raising up from my ass to the supermarket to grab another can of beans. (Yes, I actually eat something else too, like veggie balls, sometimes meat, but I actually prefer the veggie ones.)

I'm having a weird problem: I'm actually typing so much that I have stuff written for like a week in advance if I were to publish one post per day. Do I have to start publishing more than 7 times a week? It feels wrong. Maybe my rational brain tries to keep the Taraz Syndrome intact. Maybe it's better so.

I'm seriously getting so disassociated from this that I'm probably going to have an out-of-body experience at some point. I drift further and further away into the mist, though in reality only morphing the chair better for my ass cheeks. I'm still wondering why does the janitor keep talking to me occasionally, I don't think I'm a very good chatting buddy. "Hm", "Aha", "Hmm", "Oh". Well, if it keeps people happy I'm fine with it.

It must be that my brain is trying to repair all the damage that has been done during my stay here. "Brain damage from what?" How the fuck am I supposed to tell you that? I'm not a neuroscientist, only a guy starting to lose it while writing like a madman on the keyboard because the satisfaction of pushing the keys starts to almost arouse me as if I saw a hot chick walking down the street distracting my view with her gluteus maximuses that I struggle to get my view away from while the podcast on my headphones turns into mumblejumbo – summers bring a lot of distraction. It's like the brain just shuts off and can't see anything but the "buns" in front of me. When a man learns to not watch down, he has become a god, I don't think that's even a joke. Testosterone might make one hellava strong, but also quite pipe-visioned sometimes.

So far these few trick seem like the best coping strategies: a) I'm not where I am but in the text writing, I can ignore reality almost fully. b) People only say 'morning' to me if I encounter them and not anything about the whether. c) I can do something actually useful for myself while not ending up jail (or home arrest in practice) for violating government's ideology. d) I'm starting to think that the co-workers are discussing on their table-talks whether I'm autistic or not, although they might be too busy discussing the weather and their kids so, I guess I'm fine. Wait... d isn't a coping strategy at all...

Social interaction is like pooping here, you just have to do it even though it's not the right time. Nevermind, I don't actually do it, because I'm staring at the screen so that I can provide Internet people some amusement, instead.

It almost begins to unsettle me how isolated I've grown to be in this tiny corner of mine where I'm pretending to be so intensely focused that I don't hear the "morning" -greets when they come at work. I only greet if the janitor isn't sitting next to me because otherwise they wouldn't have anyone to greet back. Of course they need someone to answer, it's not nice at all to say empty words to the blank world, isn't it? I'm actually anxious for the next time I'm going to hear my name being said because in my paranoia I'm thinking that I'm going to be criticized for something. In reality though it'll probably be for one of those mundane tasks like folding leaflets.

Ok, I think that's enough for the day, Imma break my 1 post per day rule and be right back with something else later today.

PS: Dang, only 949 967 words, still so far from 10,000.

PPS: I was about to empty the dishwasher but turned back when I heard talking from the kitchen.

TL: 86 Days

Today Left of Service

You have as much time as me?

#work #nobidbot #busy #freewrite
6 years ago in #rambling by
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     6 years ago 

    Written ramblings can be some of the best works sometimes. I find them interesting and often comforting.

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       6 years ago 

      Haha, glad I'm not the only one who enjoys them!

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