Cyborg Envy

Bits of my existence are strewn across a flimsy table in the heart St Paul.
I bathed today but my appearance is not in harmony with the recent submergence into a sudsy haven.
The skyways filter many a tailored suit.
Woman's heels click clack as they pair up for an end of the day latte.
I find myself shifting in my chair. Feeling as if they're about to converge on me and I can't pinpoint the best means of escape.
It was only a week or so ago
standing awkwardly in between two former high school classmates
I had a conversation that appeared irrelevant at the time.
They're working in tall glass buildings in big cities.
Is that where I want to be?
Making more money so I can spend more money?
Nine to five
Two weeks paid vacation
Benefits
More expenses
More money
Leather pumps
Pants hemmed
Polish.
I've been programmed.
At some point in my life I started to believe this is where I belong. Milling about with my messenger bag and knock off designer shoes. Blond highlights in my chemically saturated hair and a knack for eying people down the tip of my nose.
What happens to these people? Was their wiring altered before or after they thumb tacked a picture of a loved one on the fuzzy temporary cubicle wall?
Maybe I'm generalizing.
Looking at people, judging people, finding it hard to believe that I'd be happy in their shoes.
Maybe I'm jealous.
I didn't follow the flow...
High School - College
College - "Normal" Job
Job - Babies (Marriage post-baby is now an option...go figure.)
Perhaps these people I see milling around have more financial stability.
But something keeps swirling around my mind...
How much does it cost to look the part you're trying (fighting) to play?
I look at myself as I look at these people and I think I know the answer.
I'd rather be right where I am, thanks.