Driving

I I hate the drive to and fro to work. It's so long and the traffic is horrendous. I practically spend 2 hours a day on the road. That's 10 hours a week, one lovely night's sleep. 

But, I have to say, I kinda enjoy letting my mind wander. 

I sometimes wonder how I am able to kinda love a job that's killing me. I look around me and everyone on the team is burning out. The sparkles in the eyes are now dim, and the glow of the skin is fading. Is there a sense of loyalty we feel for the others in our team? Are we missing the big picture or simply floating around in this abyss as we do not honestly know what else to do? Is this just a stop at a dingy train station before we head off in a different way? What about those who stay? Why do they stay? Is there a neighborhood round the corner of the train station that I have missed? 

But yeah, somehow I like feeling awesome when a task gets done and I'm scared that I won't be able to be as awesome in a different job. What a wimp. What a kiasu coward. Why do I continue to struggle this want to stay and this need to go?

---

I also wonder about dad. I thought, losing someone so close to your heart, the person that basically shaped you to be the person you are today, is like having a fractured bone. That fracture may never heal, and when a little pressure gets put on to it, it hurts, you cry. I cry. Thinking about it hurts, standing in front of his grave and seeing his photo hurts, It just hurts from all these un-given love. I have so much more love to share with him, to bask him with, but he is not here to let me.

Honestly, I sometimes regret and resent my job for taking time away from my family, especially dad when he was in the hospital. But, then I can't blame my job, I made those choices. Those stupid stupid choices. 

I know he loved me, but he didn't quite like this adult I have become. How my principles and beliefs have changed. Or maybe they never changed but were always repressed.

When he passed,I felt this overwhelming sense to really be me and be a counsellor / therapist. 

But, for some reason I'm still in this job I kinda love but kinda hate.  

In a sense, I don't know how to be me. I just know how to be moulded into what my family wants me to be.

Perhaps it's time to reexamine me. 

Such first world problems. 

Dreams

Jump ship

Days like these, I feel no one feels our pain and frustrations. They think it's so easy just to handle the situation.

A bully is a bully and there is no changing that. 

You would never understand our frustrations because you are in position of more power than us and she knows it. 

You think it's as easy as following the steps to a logical solution.

The truth is, it's not logical. The truth is, it's all politics (credit to the boy). The truth is, she tells lies and hides behind lies all the time.

Only those of us who have been to the chopping block, know the feeling. Only if you were in our positions would you understand. 

How do we feel? We feel that no one higher up the chain would understand how we feel unless you were in our shoes. 

Call us whiny gen y's, call us stupid, call us misguided. But if we have nth else in life, we should at least have a sense of respect for each other's lives. That makes us human. 

Nothing frustrates me more than DISRESPECT. 

If you don't have respect, well then, I have none for you.  

What's to stop us walking away? We are all replaceable anyway. So, really, keep her around and watch the decay. 

To be my own

Did a test the other day that was handed to me by a qualified counsellor, and it showed that my dominant interest / characteristic is that of an artistic person. This surprised me as I always thought I am quite terrible at art. 

But it seemed to make sense. My results appeared to show that I am dominantly artistic but also have a sense of conventional - meaning I'm suited to occupations such as accountancy, lawyer, etc. these two are actually contradictory to each other, causing me to feel stress. It is possible to find a balance but it makes sense now. 

Have also been doing a few other tests online and all seem consistent with that result. I walked away thinking, ah, I know what to do now. 

But, I feel that those closest to me don't see me as who I really am. They see me as a project to groom, to teach to invest, someone to learn the business. I don't deny that they are good things to learn... But they don't understand the immense pounds of masks they put on me when they say they let me be me, yet when I tell them what I wanna do what I wanna be, they fear I will be lost and insists they would groom me.

If only they understood what I have been going through these past few weeks. Wanting to rip off the masks I have been wearing. I literally wanted so badly to bash my head through the wall, slice through my skin. My mind seems to think that would help me break free. I didn't understand it before, all those feelings... Wanting to cut my skin out, wanting to reach into my brain and pull out the part of me that is making me feel anxiety, stress, anger, frustration.

I didn't understand... I do now. 

How do I find this balance within myself? 

My mind...

It feels like I'm losing my mind. 

It feels like I wanna open my brain and dig everything out. 

Everything that is making me sad, making me angry... 

Then all I will feel is utter peace and numbness. 

Maybe that's why Sylvia Plath plugged her head in an oven. 

Hopefully I can help myself out of this emotional garbage pit before it gets to that. 

The reason I connect

... To those that eventually leave the institution I'm part of, be it school, uni, or work. They always leave before me. 

I'm the scared one. 

They know I don't belong. 

I need to escape. 

You gotta hold on

Dear Brittany Howard of Alabama shakes, 

I wonder what you were feeling and thinking when you spontaneously came up with the lyrics to "got to hold on". What went on in your life, the images in your head as you sang that song. How I wish I could ask you this in person and see the emotion in your eyes and face. 

Today I heard your song on the radio, and it touched me. It made me cry. I know it was supposed to be an uplifting dancey song but I cried. When you sang about "someone up above", I thought about my father. When you sang about having to hold on, it brought so clearly in my mind, my father standing by the hospital window. I only saw his back, he was staring out the window. I thought to myself how badly he wanted to escape the room, but he was holding on for us. He was holding on to have us as a family by his side, close to him before he decides to let go of this plane..

When you sang about how you thought you would never make it to 22, I had the same thoughts you had...

Howard explained the meaning of the, "never thought I'd make it to twenty-two years old," line to NME: "It's not necessarily that I didn't think I was going to make it to 22," she explained. "It's just like, you know when you're younger and you can't imagine yourself ever being grown? I didn't like my job and I didn't like where I was living and I didn't like the way my world was. You're holding on but at the same time you're tired of waiting for things to get better. Why have you always got to want something better."

I don't like where am at now and I just want to escape. I am kinda hating my job, partially, because It took a lot of my time away from my father. At the same time, it should hv been my choice to leave when I could. I didn't really understand that until it's all over. Now, I sit at my desk, hating it. Escape is always running through my head. Yet I don't have the courage to change my path. 

I miss my dad. I miss his courage, his spirit and his laugh. 

But you are right, we got to hold on, in so many ways... 

Sincerely, 

Touched by your lyrics 

Hidden

A person can hide it so well, you can't tell.

Whether it's in their words, their tone or the smile they try to sell. 

You can't tell when the walls crumble and they cry to sleep at night. 

It's an internal fight within these heartbreak walls, but on the surface - it's all alright. 

You can't tell because you cannot see the images that swim in their minds. 

It taunts, it stings, it hurts until the chord it finds. 

A chord in minor, a sad tune played. 

Tears follow, as if one has been so sorely betrayed. 

But it's not that, you see, it's just a broken string - dangling weakly when strong it should hv been. 

It's not you, it's me. For I'm about the worst person you could ever meet.

I cry, I curse, I lash out when you don't deserve. 

Indeed I am the worst. 

So, for your sake, in this world, alone, let me be. 

What do you do...

... When you realise you are not where you wanna be in life? 

A sign of depression is sleeping a lot. Is it because one secretly wishes they never have to wake up again?