Recoiling Into Yourself To Dull Your Light

Even when the brilliance dimly radiating from what’s left of your soul is already dull to begin with, there is a one hundred percent chance you will stamp the faint gleam out completely by working in an office for even as short a period of time as ninety days (the general provisional period it takes for the master to determine if you’re bona fide lackey material). Yes, that’s all it will take for you to realize that if you want to blend in, it’s key to go unnoticed, especially for your work–which should remain as muted as the beige skirt and white blouse you purchase from H&M on a whim in Times Square one day after you’ve clocked out in an attempt to wait out the barrage of other officer worker riders on the subway.

For any shimmer–either literal or figurative–is sure to invoke suspicion among your co-workers and various masters from the middle management line and up. They want to be constantly assured that you’re as matte in finish as they are–that there’s no chance of you ever escaping, just like they never will. As is the rule, there’s comfort in being stuck in a pit of mediocrity so long as everyone is in tacit agreement that they will each stay mediocre. No chance of feeling like shit or that you’re wasting your potential that way. “We’re in this abyss of averageness together” is the unifying mantra. So no, there’s no fucking room for your bejeweled, “lost lamb” Marilyn Monroe essence. Come to think of it, this could very well be why she had so many enemas: to drain completely from herself all the light within via the passageway of her asshole so as to be vaguely acceptable to the common man.