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September 20, 2013
It was a creepy desolate this morning when I clocked in (the daily incremental selling of my soul for a high schooler's wage). They're hung over I suppose, late running through Starbucks, lavish breakfast meetings. The place is all mine! I can take off my pants, do pushups on the conference table, long distance phone calls. I can sit on their desk and pretend to be CEO. Make origami and print 386 page books. But I go online instead. And I surf the same sites I do when they are present. They've done it. Sucked away my will to live.