December; in no particular order.

I have been having these raging feelings to write. I don’t really have any particular topic or issue that has been lingering in my mind long enough that I need to give my intention to, but this burgeoning sense of wanting to pour my heart in the form of writing has been so intense. So here I am, in front of my laptop, writing, with no actual direction whatsoever.

If one good thing of life as a working adult has done to me is getting rid of my overthinking habit. I have been battling with my own personal thoughts, where at times, it became too overwhelming that I am sometimes would be in distraught. I take each and every tiny details of my conversations with people, every coincidence and relationship I have to heart. This is 100% a self-inflected problem which has caused me so much pain in the past (it still is today), to me and other people who may be accidentally involved. 

Self-blaming may sound unkind to oneself, but personally it has been the best coping mechanism. I am always able to overcome every critique I had over myself, or anything that people have against me by expecting the worst of every outcome, every words that came out of their mouth or every news and every important emails in my inbox. Special delivery of a self-inflicting wound, with a sprinkle of truth and a dash of painstakingly-hard-to-forget mistake. Sounds about right. So vicious and unbecoming. Such is life.

And yesterday, during the work hours, I was getting a little bit overwhelmed with work, my brain get transported to another realm, an alternate reality of who would I become if I am not who I am today. I was sitting at the very same chair I sat at the moment, with the same Spotify playlist playing in the background. But instead of me cramming numbers, I was painting / writing. Lost in the tunes of indie folks song playing in the background like I am a hippie in a Volkswagen van on a road trip to east coast. So peaceful. Vanilla scented room, white scheme furniture and same wall paint colour. I still have varieties of hanging plants, very healthy, very green. Overlooking the window, the sun was really bright but not scorching hot. So comforting. 

Maybe if I work hard enough to improve my art skills, I might be able to make a living out of it. But here is the fact, in an actual reality, I get bored of a hobby very fast. I jump to one hobby to another so quickly. But arts have never bored me so far. I can only do so much in a day / every weekend and I chose to neglect them despite spending shit tons of money on art supplies. No matter how much I convince myself that I will practice, I am always not going to do it anyway. Lies I’ve been feeding myself since the age of dawn. 

But of course, thoughts like this come and go whenever I feel so shit about work especially now that I have went through peak period. Thinking whether I should make the jump now or stay a few months / years and see how thing goes. Or whether I should start a business and be my own boss. All of these occupying my brain at the wrong timing, as usual. 

As I said earlier, I just have so much to say so I ended up writing this long ass post for whatever reason I am feeling when I started writing. This feels good, this feels great. 

Till then

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