Leaving

I am here again. Again, seated in this old swivel chair that never seems to have the capability to completely adjust to comfort and support my long body. The view in front of me is of a dull grey computer, boring white papers and the walls. The walls are cold. The air is quite warm, but the colour, the colour of the walls, the stark whiteness along with the years of collected grime, is cold. The energy is stale. The energy affects my mood, in this room, I feel numb, I feel like I don’t want to talk to anyone. I feel unmotivated to achieve anything. This room puts me in an unsociable mood, I stare into space and think only about being out of this room. I dream of all the things I could do if I wasn’t here. Of course, outside this room is everything I want. I want colour, I want laughter, I want warmth and love, and I want to feel the energy of excitement, challenges and possibilities in motion. In the adjoining offices I hear voices discussing opinionated trivial matters, they are happy to be here, or they at least pretend to be. I have no work to do, nothing to distract me from thinking I don’t want to be here. Nothing to speed up the relativity of time and to make the clock disappear for view for a few minutes.

When I close my eyes, I feel the warm air and see the sunlight generating it. I see the vivid greenness of the grass to my right, I see the café window to my left and the colourful paving beneath my feet, extending along the street and around the corner. I smell the addictive aroma of coffee and feel the familiarity of the cup in my hand. I hear the laughter of ladies, gentlemen and children, enjoying the delights of a day promising possibilities that were dreamt of yesterday. I feel the energy of love. I feel a smile on my aging face and excitement in my heart.

I open my eyes and return to disappointment. But today is not the day to leave.