Sitting in a drab office with blue carpets, curtains and upholstery (is that how the color derived its popular association with depression? ), I miss the sun smiling upon the world. This harsh and unwavering quality of the white light illuminating my cubicle, just like the hundred or so similar ones in my row is a stark reminder of the trivial nature of work I’m pushed into. The world outside keeps evolving under the protection of this warm star while I sit here pushing buttons. New life is created and miracles are changing people’s lives while I work my way through files and folders. We sit solemnly at our desks working on our computers. The silence is pounding and it almost seems as if everyone is fit to burst. But we keep pushing on.A feeling of inadequacy washes over me. Am I doing something significant with my life? Am I contributing to humanity? Will I ever make a dent in this world?
Unrelenting days of bleak
Where am I going?