MySpace 

I quit my job. I quit school. I quit going to church. I quit seeing movies. I quit going to shows. I left my friends. I left my girlfriend. I left my family. I left my city, and I got on a ferry boat not run by the state. I brought no baggage onto this flat black boat, I just got on. I bought coffee made in a vending machine, and stood on the prow deck, waiting. I arrived at the base of the tallest building in the world. I looked up, but couldn't see the top. Clouds stole it from view. I entered the vast foyer, and found the bottom to be equally absent. Escalators descended to distant lower floors obscured by darkness. I found a receptionist. I spoke to a supervisor. I was hired on the spot without interview. I was escorted to my office on the 89th floor. I was given no instructions or training. I was told to start immediately.

I looked around at my new co-workers, and they did not look new. They looked like people I had known for years. Familiar faces, now tired and creased, gray and desaturated from years under the flourescents. My friends, my family, my girlfriend. Everyone was here, hard at work. I tried to speak to someone who looked like my mother, but she just glared at me and said she was busy. I turned to the papers on my desk, and lost myself in my work.