For him, the mundane was such a peine forte et dure.
Each morning, he would arrive at the sepulcher that was his office cubicle.
There, he would wallow in the disquietude of his propensity to escape.
Society's customs were what he was 'supposed' to do.
Why was he so melancholy?
OR, why was today's agenda so mass-producted?
Born into this world and given a name; a set of morals.
Then sent to school to be equipped with what the population defines as knowledge.
Understanding and accepting these facts and fictions is to be successful; the failure of this is to be deemed an outcast.
After this cruel ferule, you are thrown out like a worm on a hook, into the great blue world.
No matter how you wriggle to and fro, your expectation is to start the cycle over.
The quicker the better.
Obtain a job, pick a partner, decide on a religion, create a family, repeat.
Like a Kafkaesque steam train, permanently chained to its tracks.
And yet, the understanding, is to relish in these simple 'achievements.'
'You got a new tie for Christmas? Cheers!'
'Oh, a three day weekend? Hooray!'
'It's a baby girl? Praise God!'
None of this was anything worthy of even a smirk in his mind.
He craved for life to be a verdure of technicolored caprices.
Not this somber countenance of referendum.
Each day arrived with more thoughts of adventure; to the point where his monomania was all that kept him alive.
(to be continued)
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