“Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.” – Henry David Thoreau
You huddle under the warmth of the blanket, cursing the alarm. It is chilly outside. There’s no point. In any of the things you are about to do. Yet, you have to get up. You have to wash yourself, get dressed, get to work. And you have to sit there, bored out of your mind, doing graceless tasks that have to be done because your boss said so. Because otherwise, you’d be unable to pay the bills or afford to buy food.
The nine to five. The lunch break. The grave ticking of the clock that slices your life away carelessly. The habit of grasping for a bit of comfort once you get home. The days when you can Netflix and chill your life away. The restless resignation that you are unable to do more than this.
Let me tell you one thing: the monster of insecurity is born out of our childish desire for comfort and security.