Here is a different page from my slow to be completed book.
Yes there are plenty of similarities many of you will see to my life.
I suppose as many people say, we write what we know.
I used to think I was happy here before I knew I could leave. I know these words are easy for many to say, but it is so much harder to feel this way. I sit here, Me, the invisible operations agent. I sit here in an office, an office full of ugly green, red or blue chairs. An office with gray walls and these managers offices called pods. I come into work, day after day, and sit here surrounded by coworkers. I watch them engulf themselves in others business, which is the polite way of saying gossip. I watch them work when they know someone who is important enough to matter is watching. I furrow my brow and question my own sanity, wondering what I am still doing here.
My phone beeps in my ear and startles me back into reality and I quickly remember how unimportant I am, and exactly why I am here. As occupied as my mind should be with the woman screaming in my ear about how much she hates the company I work for, (and most times I would want to yell back that I agree) I can not help but to sit silently letting her finish her rather large piece of mind. In doing so it allows me the luxury of cluttering my thoughts with the desire to be just about anywhere but here at this very moment.
I close my eyes in my thankfulness that I no longer want to not be me, and smile at the distances I have traveled to discover such a valuable truth. I stand up slightly as if looking like I am stretching to peer around the office, and reaffirm how few people actually know anything about the road I have taken inside to be where I am today. I sit down and smile to myself because I realize most of them would not really care. The woman in my ear has finally stopped, and although there are at least one hundred calls left to answer, I permit myself a moment to read an email from a dear friend, hoping I will find a small moment of normalcy.