I would take a job pushing the Sisyphus rock if it paid 20 an hour and I could wear my headphones
Do I get to put little paintings on the rock before rolling it back up again?
Are my friends at the top? Do we get to watch the rock roll back down together? Do we all get to cheer and celebrate another job well done?
Do I get to see the sunrise and sunset? Feel the breeze at my back?
Do I imagine another version of myself. Soft and tired and drained of emotion. Sitting at a desk with no window to see the sun has come and gone without me.
Do I get to romanticise her?
This other softer me.
Do I imagine, with longing in my trembling limbs, getting to sit in a chair. Dreaming of stillness as my feet pound back up hill, an endless rhythm of aching.
Do I imagine that this chair I sit in, would sit in, is so different from the hill I climb?
That I am not being slowly eroded in either version of this beautiful imagined self?
Do I get to see the stars?
