Rambling

I sit in a white-washed building. There are no windows. There are password-protected doors giving access to a few. The air is conditioned, pumped inside spending loads of electricity. A gentle breeze might be blowing outside.
There are a thousand tube-lights. They illuminate and put everything into a spotlight. The sun shines brightly till evening. The ceiling hangs low. People move about suppressing spontaneous laughter. Business-like, busy.
Thousands swarm into these precincts every morning. A human ant colony. Working on set instructions, following rules.
Where do we draw the line? Human instinct or pursuit of something higher, less tangible, more ethereal. Do I need the support of cold, hard-earned paper money or the joy of doing what I like? Can these spheres intersect? Should they?
Why do I feel like I wrong people who, along with me now, are a part of this worker-ant-like colony? I look at them condescendingly sometimes. Sometimes, I just envy their happiness in the materialistic. And wish I was never this ambitious. I wish I could belong.
The metrics, the statistics, I am a part of, demean me. They cast their all-pervading shadows on my uniqueness. My sense of my own indispensability. I will struggle to break through. I hope to win. I don't know what I will lose. Hope the spoils are satisfying enough, if not, I will have my peace of mind, I tried.