Grey (part 1)

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The rain greeted my leg the second I swung out of the door, and soon enough, the tears from heaven drenched me. My over coat slowly dampened, and chills flew down my spine, as small streams of water sliced down my skin, like a knife of ice. Quickly, I gripped my briefcase with my left hand, and pressed lightly down against my hat with my right, and I set off through the thundering wall of drops, to the tall, gray building that lay ahead. It towered in through the street, like a giant slab of stone, which was thrown onto a canvas. In fact, it was one of many, tall gray buildings in a jungle of stone, each one alike, and each one so'.. dim, the point brought out even more by their stupid gray color.
Through my eyes, everything was gray. My life was gray, and it always was from the point I was brought into this world. Gray as soot. The sky, was as gray as death itself, and I proved myself this depressing point, when I had stopped merely for a second to look up into the sky, searching for a small patch of blue to lighten my day, to show me that the world isn't such a gray place. No such luck, as the sky was gray as could be, sinister as ever, and those small precious seconds I spent searching were wasted, and rain hit me square in the eyes. Sighing, I walked on to the gray building up ahead, which I so dreaded so terribly everyday. As I walked silently on, over the gray pavement, I thought silently to myself. Is time searching for color in this world of gray really worth it? Everywhere I look, and every time I try, all I see is terrible, gray blandness, and all I am rewarded with, is a penalty for trying. That time is time wasted. Im just wasting my time. Ill just live my life like I always do, and always have. I guess this is life. Life is gray.
Water cascaded on my head, as the wheels of a passing taxi hit a small puddle of water, and it sailed over, hitting my face. Yep, I thought, that's life. This is how I'm going to live it. There is nothing better out there. I've tried so many times to search, and this is what I receive. Water in my face. What am I doing, asking for something better? I should be happy with the gray world I live in. IS it not real? Is this not life? I am living, I am in the flesh. I can feel the weight of my overcoat pressing upon my skin. This is life. Why don't I just leave this issue alone, and live it. I've gotta' start liking this life, cause there is no other life out there.
As I walked to the entrance of the building, the rain abruptly stopped. Puzzled, I looked up only to see the door cover blocking the downpour. I shifted my gaze towards the outdoors, and my eyes once again, stumbled onto that same gray, world. That world I as living in. That same gray sky, with the same pouring rain, and the same god damn taxi, whose wheels shower water over bystanders. Nothing changed. Nothing ever will. Ha!!! Sun? I wish. This will never change, who am I kidding. I'll just keep on living.
Slowly, I walked through the gates of the building, and to the coat check, and with a grim look on my face, I swung of my coat, spraying small drops of water everywhere.
'Hey! Watch it sonny!!!' a short growl emitted from the short, squat man behind the counter.
'My apologies, sir' I replied hastily, hoping no damage to reputation was done.

'No Problem, just be a bit more aware of yer' surroundings next time'
I walked on, discarding my coat, still keeping my watchful eye on the bald man behind the counter. In no time, the entrance disappeared, and the small gray world vanished out of my pitiful sights. Its never going to disappear. It'll always be there waiting vehemently, like an enraged beast. This world is an enraged beast, and I'm just its prey. I sighed.

I stepped into the small elevator, and reluctantly touched the button marked 26th floor. Slowly, the small doors closed, and the wooden box made its long way up to the floor that marked my hell on earth. Why do I bother. I hate this. I despise this. Why do I live like this? Is there really no other way to live? Does god really have no pity on men? So many questions riveted through my brain, that kept coming back to me, in a vicious cycle. That cycle never let me go, but I always had no answer. I didn't know what life was like, outside this pitiful, small, gray hell I lived in. The world I came to, and returned to everyday of my life. The world I never left. The question was, why wouldn't I leave it? The small compartment snapped open, as the doors revealed the place, I spent most of my hours in. Work.

There were hundreds of small cubicles, each with their small walls, and brown, tables made of timber. Small wooden chairs accompanied the crude tables, and thrown about the cubicle were stacks of sheets, and articles, thrown about in folders, and crunched up cabinets. Endless amounts of waste was thrown in plain baskets, and room was scarce. In every cubicle, a man sat, hunched like a bear over a grisly site of computers, and notes, calculating endlessly numbers that were supposed to make a difference in society, but which really, went surpassed and unnoticed. People worked here. They spent all their time devoted to writing, and calculating out such large, and such stupid numbers, and only to be rewarded with coffee and pay. And for what? I thought, mostly everyone here hates their job! It's a living hell! This isn't life? Why do I do this?! For money? No. What need is it to me? I want happiness, and I cant find it. I do this, because I dotn think I have a choice. Because I always search, and I find that time spent searching is time wasted. I do this, because I haven't found s***, in what I am searching for. I haven't found, a life, or an idea that would be better than this one. So this why I do this. Every, single, freaking day. I have no choice.

I looked around. Every where I looked, I could only see greedy people, backs hunched over, eyes peeled onto lists of paper shredding under their gaze. All around, I saw people, who lived this stupid, boring, life of grey. People like me, people who wasted away their lives, working, and living their life with something they despised. In order to live, I must find something I enjoy. Something I love. I wanted to scream aloud, yell out at the grey wasteland I lived in, and damn it. I wanted to curse it, for not giving me a choice. For never giving me a chance to live other wise. I don't have a choice of how to live. I never will, and this was god's intention. Who am I to choose?
With eyebrows crossed, ending in two perplexing points on my forehead, and eyes aflame with the fire of an eternal fury, I sat myself down into my desk, and with pure hatred on my face, I picked up the manila portfolio, and took out the first sheet of paper for the day. I felt a hatred for this gray world that I never felt before. Why? WHY!! I why do I never get a choice! Why is life so terrible, so cruel? Why, is life gray, huh? Help me!!! Oh god help me!! Get me out of this life.

Perspiration in my brow, I clenched my fist, and in a act of pure fury, brought it down with full force onto my brown mahogany desk. A loud echo resonated through the whole room, and all the while, pain like daggers shot up my right hand. No one flinched. No eyes moved. No one even shifted their gaze onto the source of the sound. There they stood, working motionless like demons without souls. Here I stand among them as a demon. I am one, and the same as these monsters that stand working before me. I am no different, simply caught up in this life of gray, no choice, and no will of my own. Just a mindless tool of society like the rest of them, working for nothing. Society will never recognize us. Who am I but just a mindless tool, with no will. Who am I? I am nobody, and always will be. I have no choice, and the only thing to be in this gray world is a nobody.





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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

sillyaardvark said...
Dec. 19, 2009 at 9:58 am
I liked it, but you have to work on comma usage. It made it choppy. Also, it was a tad too dramatized. Like the part when you said, "Help me!!! Oh god help me!! Get me out of this life." That was not the way someone would react. But good job!
 
thesilverrose said...
Dec. 4, 2009 at 7:15 pm
I like it... good job. Keep writing.
 
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