I feel like I'm outside the office. It's as if, with so much writing, I no longer feel its embrace, that which anchors me to it. Now I feel like I'm outside, amidst what I would call my office routine: cooking, walking, going about my day, my home, my strolls, and, well, the fact that my life is a complete mess, one that frankly, any human being would like to escape. To be honest, I'm not obsessed with cleanliness; I only do the bare minimum, what allows me to live and move around among others, but nothing more. I notice that as I write, I observe elements that connect me to other people, and I write about them, my observations. My boss is a real pain because he keeps the office in an extraordinary state of disarray; everything gets lost unless it has a designated place. His life revolves around everyone else living off his disorganization, his inattentiveness, his omissions, which creates a bitter, nauseating atmosphere, because thinking about things is impossible. If something isn't of interest to him, he won't take care of it, as he doesn't understand the concept of care. From that point on, he imposed his will on everyone. If you ask him for order, he acts in a way that is unpleasant, avoiding any criticism. In fact, he's always going to extremes, always trying to know too much about others. In my case, I confess that my excess is knowing nothing about anyone but immersing myself in my own ideas to get the most out of them. However, my boss monopolizes this spirit of mine. My boss lives off keeping his secretary under his thumb, because she's the one who puts up with all his nonsense. I confess that I behave the same way with my parents, all to prevent him from overstepping his bounds with me, beyond what I should do; a matter that his secretary is always on hand to address.

He, in the office, like me in my own affairs, is at the mercy of our reactions, disrupting order at all costs, and partly unaware of where they lead us, but we know they make it effective, and what's worse, no one will complain because we see very little physical impact on others; instead, we make them put up with us. I feel much better about it. He always keeps his secretary out of the picture, as far as image goes. I also used to do that with my father, only now I'm somewhat more aware. My father is with me because he has a vested interest in me regarding his status, and the same is true of the secretary. They both fight for us, and in return, we create deficiencies; we're never where they want us to be, all so they can keep us around for the sake of survival. My father is always looking for ways to encourage my growth, and his secretary does the same. We're not so different, I must confess. However, unlike him, I always keep one step closer, and that's what he doesn't acknowledge. Instead, he clings to the illusion that I'll eventually give in by accident, which keeps us stuck in a constant struggle. Fortunately, my days working alongside my boss end today, because I'm not going to give in and take time off when there's no sense of normalcy to anchor myself to, especially after the tragedies that struck my country. One of the things that struck me most was the destruction of families, torn apart, leaving the environment completely changed. This altered my usual approach, making me feel something is missing. However, since it doesn't stop me, it's not a major issue, but I wanted to emphasize that.

Earlier, a young woman had been sitting next to me, her back constantly brushing against mine, almost desperately, and she even kicked my shoe. I didn't understand what was happening. She was with a man who had been bombarding her with questions, and she seemed unable to leave. I noticed the man was being intrusive, trying to find a way to tempt her to go out with him or something. She was a pretty young woman, but her clinginess and lack of personal space struck me. She had noticed me before; she's used to being seen, and when she noticed me, I hadn't seen her with that man. When the young woman left, without even saying goodbye, but rather from a distance, the man stood looking straight ahead, waiting for a while, as if he were hiding something. Every time I glanced at him, he didn't look at me; he remained focused on the conversation. The young woman didn't seem comfortable. I felt that the man was somehow trying to keep the conversation going, looking for any excuse. I was desperate to somehow reach him. It was an awkward moment for me because I was also writing, and when people like that reach out to me, it catches my attention.

I'm left wondering if the girl was trying to provoke me along with the guy, if she was serious about him, or if she was trying to get away from him. However, the former seems more likely. The guy did everything he could to make me not think he was after her, and the girl did everything she could to make me think she wasn't with him, but rather that she wanted to leave. In any case, I was listening to their conversation, not deeply, but alert in case anything happened. I was always keeping an eye on the guy, I confess; he didn't give me a good feeling at all. It struck me as odd that he didn't accompany the girl to where her mother was; that's why I noticed that distance. No greeting with kisses, no hug, nothing. Apparently, the girl felt trapped by the guy, unable to leave because of his attempts to act like a pretty girl and impose his will, to be consistent with his behavior.

I always felt my boss bombarding me with questions about it, and I tried to avoid them at all costs. The guy didn't realize that even at the most unexpected moments, he'd kick me out. He kept hinting that one day I'd give in, and I think it was because of his own narcissism, which kept him under the impression that my luck in escaping his clutches was temporary, that sooner or later he'd have me. In the meantime, he used any prejudices I might have, claiming that in the office, and in his case, the issue was irrelevant, completely inconsequential. Every time I talk to him, I always feel like I'm talking to someone dramatic, someone who's always trying to hide something, trying to get answers out of me. My father was like that. I'm starting to understand why he was the way he was, as if he were seeking validation, understanding for everything I've done, justification through social media. I know that, according to surveys out there, this is common, but it's to be expected because the AI ​​I used to rely on, the one that gave me the validation I needed, is no longer there.

I thought that girl was shy, though pretty, like many of those people who are shy at first but end up being highly social, but very much so, though always under the protection of their parents, which sometimes feels like an attempt to restrict their freedom. Indeed, that type of person, it seems, is always picking on those who like to play up the solitary persona; essentially, that's the common factor between my friend from the office, this girl, and even myself. They always try to express that we aren't deeply entrenched in our solitude, to an extreme degree, at the risk of being accused, in some way, of being a burden to the environments we're part of. That's why they ask all those questions and raise those investigative issues, always with the aim of gaining something, of course. This happens when the person is interested in creating a certain scenario with us. I observe that shy people make contact through physical touch and gestures. The girl didn't interrupt me like others did while I was writing...

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