Vanity of Vanities...

There she sat, a girl no more than twenty years of age; bleakly looking into the face of her father's computer. She was frustrated, angered, and saddened, but she didn't know why. She was unable to explain the reason she felt this way or what had provoked her to react impatiently to the slightest look sent her way. People were stupid, her occupation was silly, her life had purpose, but she wasn't fulfilling it. She herself had come to the end of whatever it had decided to start. Her strength...if ever she had any, was gone. She wanted to stop, but she couldn't. Where was the exit? Where had she entered? She didn't know. Where else would she rather be? No where. Who would she rather like to know? No one. Was she influencing the lives of those she came into contact with? Not really. That's what truly depressed her. THe ineffectualness of her daily living. How had she changed the world (for good) around her? She had done nothing. She was and always had been a failure hiding behind a mirage of success.