I can feel it in the air, this sense about me, a light whisper on the wind, gentle touch on my being. I can hear it speaking to me in hushed tones, calling my name in a light echo...Earl Earl Earl. I feel the presence of something, it's here, alive tugging at me - I rise from my siesta to find, nothing - nothing but that freaking flickering blue screen of my computer, the hard feel of my desk upon which my head so soundly rested and the irritating continuous buzz from an aged air conditioning unit. Yep, I felt it in the air alright - it was work and it was saying time to get back to the grind. Sigh!
I have of late taken the view that no matter how rebellious, unconventional, non-conformist we would like to think ourselves, we are at some point always part of a similar grouping of people. We are never truly leaders, but followers. Followers, I prefer to refer to us as sheep; because at one point or another in our life we are all sheep. This is a place to express myself, vent my frustration with the sheepdom, and relieve my boredom. It is my therapy for all that contributes to my neurosis.
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