I walk in the building and I see the same faces. Day in and day out those same people are sitting in there same little spots looking at those same fucking computers. It’s like clockwork. I do not visit the office often, most of the time I spend at one location or another working on various projects. I guess I’m fortunate in that respect, but even on occasion I could spend a month or more at one place.
That’s when I began thinking it’s like a prison. I have spent days and weeks inside a tiny office looking at four white walls and a computer screen for hours a day. Missing the sunshine, not even knowing for sure what the weather was like that day. I even forget that there is an outside world, I’m so focused on my work. It’s really a tragedy. It’s a self-induced prison.
I have talked myself into believing that this is the best I can do. Too afraid to give it all up. What if I did. Gave up the security of a well paying job. Just lived off the land – day by day. Would my wife agree? What about something less extreme? I don’t even know what that would be. I just know that in the end, there is a high probability I will regret missing days of my life in self-induced confinement.
It’s not all bad, don’t get me wrong. I get to travel and occasionally see some nice things, but on the other hand I have spent full days in an airport food court. What if I just took my life savings and moved to Europe, New York City, South America, wherever – and just did my best. I wonder how I would feel. What would happen when suddenly that became my life, my reality – would I regret it? Would I be miserable or would I be alive? It’s a big what-if risk.
I just know that I have to see the world. I must have amazing experiences. And I have to fulfil these ambitions inside myself. I can feel it in my chest, it’s what I’m meant to do.