Fairy dust evaporates into the air as the dark turns to light and the demons go home. If I could I would take every ounce of sunshine and paint it with ice. I think you can probably tell that I’m not a fan of sunshine, on a Monday, on the Central line. Especially after a full on weekend of my favorite thing on this planet. Raw, whole grain sugar. No, no, I actually mean it.

I read today something that’s so real I’m jealous I didn’t think of it or even realise it first “if you think adventure is dangerous, you should try routine”. I thought I was the prime definition of living life on the edge but boy did I get that wrong. Routine makes people feel at ease as well as being a safety net for those who prefer the easy option and choose not to hide in realms of darkness. Routine is comforting. Routine is easy. Routine makes anyone — including myself — feel at ease. Routine makes it very, very simple to drive my car without looking at anything but the mirror to make sure my lips are on point — I haven’t injured anyone yet, I swear — . Routine makes it easy to touch type on my iPhone. To say things without thought. Routine is a safe bet in a dangerous, corrupt, war zone.

My fear, like most people’s is sometimes change. Change in routine. Change in routine is scary. Anything that stops you from getting to A to Z that’s unexpected and out of the blue has got to be a big shock to anyone. And let’s face it, it happens to the best of us. And here I am walking past routine zombies dressed up like Barbie girls and little Ken’s wondering why their veins bleed negative but there’s barely any substance. I mean, sure there can be different Zombie state of mind, but I’m past the point of being angry with anything with a pulse — that’s so teenage drama queen — . So why do people judge, question, and, for that matter why are we constantly competing against others in the life we live, throwing out jealousy, hate and all things that glitter is NOT made up of into other people’s bubbles?

It’s easy for anyone to look at any individual being and automatically recognise their true form. And, those who can’t do it are either lying or denial. Or, simply haven’t looked hard enough. It’s easy to identify whether people are hiding in bubbles of solitude or opening their arms out reaching for joy, peace and happiness. I should know. I can go from solitude to happiness mode in less than a second and I’m not shy about it, but only for the best of reasons. If someone’s being difficult for no reason I don’t take well to it. Why would I, why would anyone. Unless they are scared. I sometimes used to be. But now I just don’t give a f*ck.

If you haven’t quite worked out yet what the whole point of this piece of writing is about its simple. Quite obviously routine, but more obviously about balance, peace and confidence. And, mainly — since I spend most of my time here — about work routine and how dangerous it can be. My brother told me last weekend he was scared; he’s just started a post grad job and lacked confidence. I used to be scared until I realised there was more to life than people and it’s only a job. That’s not to say that it doesn’t matter because it does, but there’s nothing wrong with being fearless and who cares what people think, they’re only subjects made of matter. I think in recruitment you are usually one of two species; either constantly winging it and let’s face it, that definitely has a sell by date. Or, being a hardcore workaholic superdoll who lives in the office and breathes coffee, pro plus and eats bags of sugar for breakfast. But not all of us want to get diabetes and suffer from constant severe mood swings. And, sometimes it is nice to go home. Most people don’t have an in-between. I never used to and hate that I now do a little bit. I’m used to being quite an extremist and love it. Robot mode used to be my default and an average of 90 per cent of my bank statement used to be Starbucks, Pret, Pro Plus and Monster. Mosquito's used to love me in summertime. I was a walking sugar cube. Now, although all this seems fun, I soon realised that it probably in the long term wasn’t good for me. Ninety per cent of my family in Egypt has at one point had diabetes and it didn’t take rocket science to realise that I would soon too….

So here I am on a Monday, on the central line, motionlessly gliding past zombies and sugar-free hypocrites wondering why it took me so long to get this state of balance. It’s hard to figure out people to a point where you can categorize them into type C, but A and B stick out like a sore thumb. I’m sure it was the same with me. I was always buzzing. but now, i’d like to think I’m past that. I’d like to think I’m balanced, type C, less transparent and fearless enough to not give a f*ck.