Am I done?

Just a feeling I had when using the computers at the local library to look for available jobs.

I sat in the library, quite apart from the others.

All sense of momentum,
Gone.

My face, like some tower of indifference, benignly gazed upon the screen.

Job roles flit before my eyes.
Interview playback memories;
Speed dates with less dignity.

All I can think is:
‘Twenty-seven isn’t that young anymore’

A homework-ready kid asks me if I’m done.

I say I really don’t know.

Author's Note

Just wondered if the subject matter is clear and also what does the poem makes you feel? Also, do you think it works, layout-wise (bit of an experiment for me, this one). Thanks.