Serious...?

In which place -better than a common elevator- could void itself find a way to convey the various significances that the absurd adopts when it is forced to fit in what we call ‘reality’?

Gee, what the fuck did I want to say up there?

Well, the point is that I’ve been having this weird feeling all the way, you know, when you come across serious people, men wearing gray suits and suitcases and often a weary expression on their incipiently wrinkled faces, and women having these huge, plastic nails and these pointy stilettos, and their hair so flattened and stuff, and I feel like a little girl just taking the elevator to get some candy from floor 12, and they’re so grown ups and I’m so not-into-their-world, and I feel a bit ashamed about it.

I’m starting to wonder how long can I make this last? I mean, this situation of not working here at all, except for being on time (when I don’t feel like sleeping one more hour, like today), not having any commitment at all and just waiting for the chance of being fired? I’ve never been so irresponsible in my whole life!! *laughs*.

I think this is living proof of my involution process: when I was in high school, I used to be so…. contractée? Is that the way to call it? It was even worse in junior high, and in elementary school well, I had the solemnity of a minister. Every deed was to be taken into consideration.

And now, well now, let’s not say that I’ve become decontractée, actually that is a trait of character I haven’t fully developed yet, but I’ve managed to turn into this sort of mediocre, cynical goblin that plays tricks on her coworker’s emails, spends most of her office time performing non-office activities, and is there just as long as she finds something better… as long as the (mediocre) paycheck keeps coming in again. I’d call this the apex of cynicism in my whole life.

But, guess what? Maybe I’m actually coming to terms with becoming part of this mass stream I’ve always felt so “different” to belong to. I’ve always had to be a paria to feel that I fit in. And guess what. Now I’m finally fitting in the feeling of not fitting in. Lovely, isn’t it?