Endless Cycle Of Blah

I have no ideas – I feel like this con-artist story is lackadaisical. Something I thought about in a dream that can really only work once. I’d love to just turn it into a story about me writing a story, but genius like Adaptation can really only happen once. (Damn you Charlie) so instead I sit here, typing out my thoughts, looking over my shoulder, hoping my boss doesn’t decide that today is the day to finally let me go. This is the only time in my life I have ever (and will ever) wish that I had a cubical. Something about be stranded by short fake walls seems comforting right now. It’s not that anyone can really sneak up on me. The building is pretty old and the floors creak and echo whenever someone walks down the hall. In fact I’ve gotten into the habit of memorizing peoples footsteps. I can almost tell, whoever it is, and sometimes even what they want by the sounds of steps. The thing is I don’t always stop what I am doing when I hear someone coming, because, well, they usually just walk on by. She has a habit of walking up and stopping to ask me something without actually saying my name. She just stands there and expects me to answer her. Which I guess is reasonable, considering we all know I heard her walk up. I guess what I really wish, is that we didn’t have a turn the other cheek policy. I feel like I’m a kid again, and I still don’t have any rules. It’s not a big deal considering that I am a good, well-mannered person who is more trouble to herself then she would ever be to anyone else, but like everyone, I need rules. No matter what anyone says they need and want rules, even if it’s just something to rebel against. The point is, like a child, I want to be told no. I want someone to yell at me and take away my toys. I want them to cut off internet from my computer, I want them to tell me not to just sit here and wait for the phone to ring. I want the same things I wanted when I was twelve. I want to matter. I want to feel important. I want people to care that I come in late, I want people to care that I take ten-minute bathroom breaks. I want people to care that I don’t do my job. No one cares, because I don’t care, I don’t care because no one else does. My life is an endless cycle of BLAH!