‘Guess who’s living here with the great undead
This paint-by-numbers life is fucking with my head
She stared out the window for a moment. At the darkening mountain. Wondering when something might happen. Anything. Something that would fizz her blood. Mix it up. Make her feel alive. This gym, breakfast, work, lunch, work, dinner, TV, books, bed, sleep, gym life. This laundry, movies, family dinner, giggling girlfriends, service fees, traffic, sushi, Woolworths life. Surely the rush was more than front row tickets to the theatre. More than 2kgs off the scale. More than a new pair of shoes. Surely eyes welling, filling, spilling should be about more than Oprah, advertising, hormones. Surely heart racing should be about more than 160bps on the treadmill, road rage, boss calling. Surely beyond today’s drone, drones, droning there should be more? More what? Maybe if she knew, she could have it, get it, get over it.
She turned back to her screen. Her desk. Her life. Not so bad really, just so not good either.