life.

I’m at the stage in my life where I’ve ceased feeling happy for someone else. Good news only serves to makes me sadder. Please, I’m allergic to happy stuff, that familiar rush of envy breaking out rapidly like pimples on an adolescent’s forehead, when I hear something I DON’T REALLY NEED hearing to. The point is, I don’t feel like feeling happy for you when I’m unhappy myself. And, your happiness only serves to highlight my unhappiness. So there.

There are a couple of reasons why Mean Selfish Bitch has manifested itself.

Topmost, of course, is that even meaner bitch called happiness, which keeps playing hide-and-seek with me. It cowers in the most unexpected places, laying quietly in anticipation. But, I never really find it. Sometimes, it gets a little tired or impatient and starts throwing hints my way, but those just flies right past my head. I don’t know why. Perhaps, the fog of unhappiness is too thick and cloudy, I can’t see clearly anymore. Happiness continues to elude me.

Moreover, I HATE my job. I only took it up for the MONEY. Yeah, yeah, what a hypocritical bitch, didn't I say before that money was the least of my concerns? But, then dear Dad cut of all fiscal supply, and while money is not the oxygen of my happiness, it helps to feed my idol-chasing obsession. So there.

In fact, I just splashed close to my one month's paycheck for a pair of concert tickets. Which I agree is a very foolish thing to do, and if I had another chance, I would definitely do it all over again.

Work is exceptionally distressing, mentally exhausting, draining. It feels like reporting back to camp or checking into rehab. You don't want to, but you have to. Besides, I signed a contract, and if I don't complete my stint, I will have to compensate the company with my one month's worth of paycheck, which I can't possibly do so because all that money went to paying for the stupid concert tickets, which I felt was really worth it.

At the same time, I’m tired of the lack of recognition. I had the fortunate acquaintance of a fortune teller during my short trip to China. He mentioned that I was always one step away from success. My personal luck hasn’t always been good. Just when I’m on the road to success, I am hurdled by obstacles. Yes, why do I feel exactly the same way too?

It’s like I’m one block away from success, despite living in the same neighbourhood. It’s like I’m one missing jigsaw puzzle away from being a successful human being. It’s like no matter what I do, success is out of bounds. Hard work is rendered useless in the face of the most unlucky person.

I once worked for a publication on a freelance basis. The editor was a middle-aged guy, he loved my writings. For a while, I felt like I was on cloud nine when he kept sprinkling praises on me like how my writing was comparable to his fellow writers. Just when I thought I’ve reached an unspoken bond with him, he quit his job. The new editor was a female, and for some time I had a little trouble, but very soon I saw my articles being published again. That feeling of triumph was exultant. But, it just wasn’t the same. I felt like I could have done more and could have performed better with the trust and opportunities the previous editor leveled upon me.

It’s okay. It’s alright. I tell myself AGAIN AND AGAIN that I don’t need to rely on the sucking up of others to do well in life. But AGAIN AND AGAIN I feel that maybe exaggerated chicanery is the only way to go in life. After all, it is not what you CAN do, it’s who you KNOW. I know of stupid bimbos who don’t even know the meaning of simple abbreviates like MIA or FYI who manage to snap a job, just because they wear their skirts five inches shorter and their vertiginous heels two inches longer.

Damn. Maybe if I’ve treated that stupid boss of mine I worked for a little better, I could have found a little success by now.