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Who are you?

Who are you?

Do you know? Do you want to know? Will the question distract you from the mindless emptyness of the walls of your cubicle (blue) for long enough that may actually think about what you're are doing, wasting the seconds that tick (tock) between now and your death (bed) by doing rewardless, mindnumbing, soulless work for a Corporation that cares no more about you than a Queen feels about her termites that scurry beneath her?

Do you care enough to change your life? Are you aware enough of your own miserable existance to know that you are more than just a name on a paycheck, a photograph on an ID, a login on a computer, another termite?

How does it feel to scurry in the sewers of life? To live you life as if you're no one, that the gift of intelligence that evolution has worked so hard to provide us with has been wasted by shuffling papers and answering telephones and typing numbers and letting your mind atrophy in the once-proud junk food fed vessel that is your body?

How does it feel?

What can you do about it?

What will you do about it?

Who are you?

Discover yourself before you realise that theres nothing left.

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