I call this a love letter

There is a strange comfort in monotony.
You know what’s coming and you like the feeling of knowing that. You just keep doing what you are doing.You feel safe.
I always loved my job as simple as it was. It was comforting. I worked from Monday to Saturday and even on most Sundays. Not because I had to but because I wanted to. I was there even if the offices were empty and the only thing audible was my fingers typing on the keyboard or my pen scratching on the printing paper. I was there, filling up the excel sheets, drafting the emails or printing the documents. ‘
I have worked under the fluorescent lights for 20 straight years. Loved every second of it.
No one hires a 20-year old without a degree these days but those times were different.
But the ‘ economy ’ or the ‘ industry’ or any other antagonist that the people blame can be a bitch.
The owner of my company is going bankrupt. You would think that the first one to be fired will be the office boy but the office boy is fired the last. My colleagues went one by one and soon came my number. I was replaceable. The new smarter kids work for cheap. They make the oldies look like liabilities.
I retired at 40. No one hires an uneducated old man.
All the love in my life was brought to me by my work and now it’s gone. The comforting blanket of security is gone.
I miss my office cubicle. The feeling is only amplified by my small one bedroom apartment that resembles it.
I can’t call it home. It doesn’t feel like it. Now that I look back I should’ve married someone so at least there was something familiar to go back to. What is safety? but familiarity maybe that would’ve made it feel like home.
My father died of old age. My mother followed soon and typhoid got my brother. I wasn’t there with them when they died. I was working. I was safe. I was hiding.
Familiarity holds you captive in its own little cage. The longer you are in the cage. The more you want to be trapped. You know the cage. You know nothing can happen you in here while you are trapped. You want to be trapped for so long that it becomes your reality and unfamiliarity becomes this urban legend used to scare off misguided kids.
You feed off it and it feeds off you. When you are so familiar with familiarity life without it seems like death.
You can call this a suicide note but I call this a love letter to familiarity. I figured someone will want to know why I jumped off the roof. Why I chose to stop breathing.
Well, I am jumping into the comforting hands of familiarity. My one true love.


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