Bored Mumbling

I just zoned out and stared at the space between my computer screen and my giant old wacom pad for about 5 minutes. I'll never get that time back. I resent how much time I deliberately waste every day. I feel my youth round my neck like a dead weight, constantly thinking I need to make the most of something, this moment here? This moment is shit. All I can hear is the hum of air conditioners, aimless murmers of colleagues, my own fingers tapping at these little keys like a clumsy pianist. If I were at home I'd be playing the piano, fumbling my way through a page of Chopin, not because I like the way it sounds when I play it but because I can imagine the way it should sound and if even a fraction of that, for a split second is produced by my fingers it makes me momentarily happy. If I were at home I'd find a way to be productive. But I'm at work, I've got keep up the alacritous pretense, even when I'm asleep on the inside. I've got to look busy. Bugger.