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Literature Text
ja•ded 1: fatigued by overwork 2: made dull, apathetic, or cynical by experience.
Everyday is exactly the same. I think I'm trapped in the land of de ja vu, because I repeat the same routine.
There was a purpose to my existence once, or so I think. It's always possible that could've been a dream.
When everything was spontaneous and exciting, I had something called a voice. The repetition of the days have ceased me from making a sound. Now, I just sit in my cubicle like a good, little accountant, count everyone's money except my own, and do exactly as I'm told late at night when no one is around.
There's no love in this corporate and cold office environment. Somehow without love here, there is also the absence of pain.
My memory can't seem to recall how this repetitious life was started. However, if this "life" of mine continues this way, I will be able to tell you exactly how it will end.
Everyday is exactly the same. I think I'm trapped in the land of de ja vu, because I repeat the same routine.
There was a purpose to my existence once, or so I think. It's always possible that could've been a dream.
When everything was spontaneous and exciting, I had something called a voice. The repetition of the days have ceased me from making a sound. Now, I just sit in my cubicle like a good, little accountant, count everyone's money except my own, and do exactly as I'm told late at night when no one is around.
There's no love in this corporate and cold office environment. Somehow without love here, there is also the absence of pain.
My memory can't seem to recall how this repetitious life was started. However, if this "life" of mine continues this way, I will be able to tell you exactly how it will end.
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* Warning contains Mature content The figures were silhouetted only briefly in the glow of the full moonlight, then a veil of fog drifted hauntingly across the black lake All was shrouded permanently into an eerie shadowy world of smoke and darkness But what had I seen? Was it not a man dragging what appeared to be a women’s body toward the water? I returned to my rented cabin by the lake secure in the idea that my eyes were simply playing tricks on me It was late... and I had been drinking The next morning I was awoken by sirens and emergency lights I looked out my window to see them pulling a mutilated body unto the opposite shore I felt a cool breeze float across the hairs on the back of my neck I decided, I must tell the authorities what I had seen I reached for my clothes and found they were covered in blood I staggered to the bathroom to wash my face Surely there was still but sleep in my eyes As I gaze at my figure in the mirror I saw the claw marks across my
Page 11 of ABC journal.
The song "Everyday is Exactly the Same" by Nine Inch Nails, in narrative form. Spoken by an accountant stuck in the repetition of his life, and is slowly becoming apathetic.
The song "Everyday is Exactly the Same" by Nine Inch Nails, in narrative form. Spoken by an accountant stuck in the repetition of his life, and is slowly becoming apathetic.
© 2008 - 2024 Skye-Misanagi
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