6:30 AM – My alarms go off—yes, alarms, plural—dragging me out of the comfortable cocoon of sleep. The first one blares, then the second, followed by the third, each one more insistent than the last. I reluctantly open my eyes, squinting at the clock, still clinging to the last threads of sleep. Somewhere between 6:30 and 7:00, I force myself to get up—not watch memes; I have all day for that. I roll out of bed and groggily shuffle to the bathroom, the cold tiles underfoot a harsh reminder that the day has begun. The fog of grogginess clings to me as I brush my teeth and splash water on my face, trying to shake off the last remnants of sleep.
7:25 AM – I leave the house, barely awake, with just enough time to catch the big yellowish white bus. The walk to the bus stop feels like a journey through misery, each step a reminder of how much I’d rather be in my bed. The morning air is cool, but it does little to wake me up. I can feel the first rays of sunlight peeking over the horizon, but even the promise of a new day doesn’t lift my spirits.
8:00 AM-ish – I reach the office, greeted by the aroma of stale coffee and the sight of cold cheese sandwiches. They used to give us cake, but something happened—probably budget cuts or some very cruel twist of fate. The memory of those sweet treats is a bittersweet reminder of better days. I grab my breakfast, the sandwich a sad replacement for what used to be, and brace myself for the walk to my desk, which always seems longer than it actually is.
8:15 AM – I plug in my computer and get to work. What do I do exactly? Some days I wonder that myself. The hours blur together as I dive into the endless tasks, my brain oscillating between focus and daydreams. The clicking of keyboards and the low hum of conversations fill the air, blending into white noise. Somewhere in the mix, I study quantum stuff—a bit of intellectual stimulation to keep the mind sharp (or at least that’s what I tell myself).
12:00 PM-ish – Lunch. The beacon of hope in my day. I head to the cafeteria, praying the food is good, and most of the time, it is. It’s a small victory in a day filled with monotony. I savor each bite, knowing I’ll need the energy to get through the afternoon. The chatter of colleagues provides a brief distraction, but soon enough, the weight of the afternoon ahead settles in.
1:30 PM – Back to work. More of the same, yet somehow, the hours drag on slower. I try to focus, but my mind keeps drifting to the clock, willing it to speed up. The hands seem to crawl, each minute stretching into an eternity. I sneak in some more studying, pretending I’m absorbing the complexities, but really, I’m just trying to stay awake. The routine is absurdly comforting in its predictability, yet suffocating in its sameness.
5:00 PM – Freedom is within sight. The desire to go home grows stronger with each passing minute. It’s not because I hate this place, but because everyone is excited to go home. You could call it a guilty pleasure, but I like it.
6:00 PM – I’m on the shuttle, headed back to the promised land, pulling me through the final stretch of the day. The ride home is a blur, the landscape passing by unnoticed as I zone out, lost in my thoughts and memes.
Evening – Sometimes, I muster up the energy to go to the gym. I really do try. The thought of exercise feels like a daunting task, but I know it’s good for me. Other times, I attempt yoga, but my yoga mat spends more time on the floor. It lies there, untouched, a silent witness to my broken promises. Somewhere in between, I eat dinner—nothing fancy, just something to fill the void. The taste is secondary; it’s more about the ritual of eating, a small comfort at the end of the day.
Night – As the day winds down, I prepare for bed—or do I? I go through the motions, but my mind is already racing ahead to the next day. I dread the cycle that will start again, the alarms that will pull me from sleep once more. But before I close my eyes, I reflect on the day, the small victories. I think about the moments that made me smile, however fleeting, and the tasks I managed to conquer. Then, I drift off to sleep, hoping for a better tomorrow, knowing that in a few short hours, it will all start again.
And repeat.
Radical Human 