Disappearing :: A View to Dye For

Working. Yes, I'm working. When I am working, I tend to fade away and move in the shadows of normality. I become a ghost of my former self. I disappear. This particular time I have reappeared on the sixth floor in a corner office. The view from here is a panaramic marvel. A perfect translight. It's all a huge cover up though. The retribution exacted from us on a daily basis is a devilish deal that I don't remember agreeing to.

I'm getting a little loopy from all the stress. I am happy to finally say that my heart has stopped jumping out of my chest on a daily basis. That is a good thing. But still, I'm here at work on a three-day weekend in self-defense. If I don't do it now, I'll be attacked on tuesday and I just can't handle that anymore. I'm becoming bitter and its not from all the gin I'm drinking. I had to switch to Bushmills anyway. Right now, there's a shot glass sitting on my bureau in the midst of the mess I pull out of my pockets every night. All that shot glass needs now is a cigarette butt at the bottom. That's how I feel.

The view from here is unforgiving. The view is disappearing into the fog. It's engulfing us all.

Disappear. Fade. I must be working...