You wake up in the morning. Opening your eyes from the land of dreams and you see the metal fan whirring it's wings. The constant sound it makes while it moves is probably you revving up for the day.
Habits come next. Brush your teeth, take a shower and getting dressed for your work. Then you are on the transit with millions of other who probably have started their day as you have. Interestingly they have been doing it for so long. A coincidence?
You're walking amongst hordes of others walking to their destined place of work(ship) and you can't turn back and go home. Its a religion that you must adhere to follow. You wouldn't want to defy the will of the Gods. You'll be stamped if you decide to do so. Meanwhile when you're still caught in the thought of turning back, you've arrived at your temple. The paperwork is laid down on your table and you've to begin with the thing you're best with. Or at least what the interviewer thought best for you. They are Gods after all and you're only helping God's work by signing insurance papers. Divine.
When all that is over and the sun decides to set upon the horizon and so does your hope. You end up in a dimly lit pub where the jostle might cheer you up. But beneath the layers of smoke, alcohol and your sinew, your bones resonate with the feeling of being here yesterday and tomorrow and the day after. The resonance is so far stretched that you begin to tremble and choose to ignore the feeling and gulp down another of those poisonous pints into your system. Ignorance is bliss, but ignorance needs ailments and ignoring what is happening around you needs sedatives.
Cantering along the dull and dark streets towards the end of the night you might feel the end of the day in your blood as you tire yourself and making the littlest of mistakes here and there. You trip down to your bed and lie down with the sense of intoxicating frustration, an oxymoron strikes your demeanour and there comes the same feeling again. Sisyphus had cheated death but was stuck in the cycle of an unachievable and endless task. You're no Sisyphus. You're no myth that will survive the test of time. You're just another of Zeus' endless experiments to stop you from feeling godly.
You close your eyes to the same fan and its whirring sound.
You're just a monotony.