Lies are always wishes.
Driving to work this morning was, strangely, an unpleasant experience.
The roads were almost empty.
Vehicles were moving at a leisurely pace.
Most of the lights turned green at my approach.
The radio stations were, as usual, playing inane tunes that I have heard more than a hundred times before.
Shadows dragged alongside the car on the highway – disappearing, then appearing again – like a shrinking balloon tirelessly being pumped with air.
The sun slowly rose, accompanying me on my journey until it hung halfway across the sky, its majestic rays beating onto land, bringing everything to life.
For a while, I felt like tearing at my hair out of frustration. Clearly, deep inside of me, I still yearned for the comfort of my own bed, and the luxury of waking up at 10am. To go about the day doing absolutely nothing. To be free from responsibilities and expectations. To forget all those confusing acronyms and impending deadlines.
Then I stepped into the workplace that was uncomfortably warm and smelled with a sort of a month-old mustiness. Only a few sorry souls hovered around, blinking blearily, obviously yet to have recovered from the holiday mood as well.
And then, automatically, as though a fog had lifted – it was back to like it was before.
Well, almost, anyway – because the workplace still looked too damned empty to me.
Funny how work sometimes relieves some of your personal insecurities – only to have it replaced, of course, with work-related stress.
Being a worrywart is never an easy job, that is for sure.