Enter a room with 132 people.
Mostly guys. Not much women.
Mostly hoping to get lucky.
I just want to get drowned in boredom and get drowsy and fall asleep so I can wake up to a brand new day of being late, drowning in a never ending line up of things to do, go home late, open my PC and enter the same room again to drown in boredom and start this sick cycle again.
Then I get the drive to exert some effort.
It’s a routine too, what you do inside the room.
I think of something deep and profound and attractive to say.
I end up with saying something that gets responded with a cold shoulder (or an empty space of white with just my message in it).
I light up a cigarette, and lurk.
I say to myself, I’ll sleep at 12:30AM.
It’s 12:31, I’m writing a blog post and obviously, again, I’ve missed my self-imposed sleeping time.
The cigarette’s down to it’s last puff. Smoke acridly fills the area where my PC sits in.
I quiver at the cold stream of air that the fan blows into my back.
It’s a new day and I’ve wasted almost an hour of it.
I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.
Chatting is almost like hoping you’ll hit the lottery jackpot. Without the money and without the lines and without thinking of numbers to put your money on.
You can either get lucky and win it all, or spend the rest of your life betting on something that you have a fat chance of getting.
Yes, this post has no point at all.