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Me the People

Updated on September 9, 2012
Gouache painting by me
Gouache painting by me

9:10a.m. –

Cool, calm, and collected, as they say. Your fingers mechanically bounce across a standardized plastic terrain, sending messages with the authority of someone unfamiliar with power. Despite this, compliance exists, inducing personality shifts as you necessitate formal responses to informal questions. Demanding decisions for deadlines decades away and dropping regulatory bombs on regular citizens for the sake of saying “too bad”.

But who knew words could twist? Bend a childs wrist? Asking for payment on a non-existent debt for merchandise you never really wanted, then flaunting it, in an extraordinary display of all things we the people had hoped against.

Who knew?

At last arrives the designated time for smiles and small talk, treating human beings like humans been.

Merely a distraction distracting from the fact that action has been deemed “outdated”.

But who cares? No one that matters, at least.

You do what you do then open your hands until a Eucharistic offering of denim happiness comes along, which of course, you accept, ungratefully.

4:39pm –

The day is almost over. You send your last half-hearted email to just another person you’ve never actually met, delivering personalized regards to make imaginary impressions. Representing the masses with your unimpressive, biased opinions to bring money to a diluted cause. All in a days work for a people’s person.

5:56pm –

It feels good to leave, even if it was four minutes early, to walk away from this educated anarchy, to be with the one person who sees past your impurities and buys your hazy diamonds.


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