Unlike the old times, this begins to be the story of always. Check papers and sign them. All the time. No resting, no nothing. Just signing. The times of freedom and happiness are over. Welcome to the times of despair, of anger, of regrets and shadows, covered in black and white colours.
Many are the human beings who come to give me papers. They must be different from each other. Not to my eyes though. They perform the same action. Delivering-papers I call them. And as they do the same action over again, I do my signing over again. I remember that I smiled at a person once. I think it was my first day of job. It was an old woman who didn’t know what paper she had to give me. I helped her, she show herself grateful and I smiled at her. That’s the story of the one time that I smiled working. Many people were grateful for my help, but I didn’t smile them back anymore. My joyfulness had been consumed by some outlander power named routine. It had ended with my passions, my hobbies and my loves. Even when I came home after working more than eight hours, I couldn’t avoid routine. But routine shouldn’t be a word we should live with, as everything changes. Like machines, for example.
Machines are being replaced, while I’m still the same, doing what I’ve always done. Signing. Machines are more creative and helpful than me. That’s the point where technology is found. But me… I’m not in any point. I’m just waiting to be replaced. Just like the old machines. The time will come and I will be moved. Then, I will farewell my routine, to say hello to something unknown. Something whose colour is seen even darker than routine.
In that moment, I will miss my job and I will think how happy I was before. I will cheat myself. However, I will feel what is known by some as yearning. That will mean that I will be feeling again. That will mean that I will be living again.