congestion

I couldn't be lazier when it came to writing these days. My work requires me to write reports almost all the time, both in English and Chinese. Makes me wonder if that has killed my passion for writing. That is, if my passion is even strong to begin with. It's like I had something in mind a minute ago and actually decided to pen it down. But this minute I decide it's a chore and chuck it aside. Really, it's a bad habit to adopt.

So now, I'm penning these down on the bus because the traffic jam in the morning is terrible.

January has been very busy. February will be more overwhelming and in all honesty, I'm not so looking forward to it. But yeah, we have to move forward somehow. I feel all these workload somehow help to don a layer of protection on my wounds. It's not to say this layer won't wear off, but at the very least it helps me cope with things so much better, even if temporarily.

I know for myself scenarios have changed. The change is a stark one. And for now, I think I have no issues grappling with being on my own in everything. Maybe it's good to see some truths. It helps you become stronger.

Yesterday I heard a story about a person who changed to become arrogant and indifferent to things and people around him after a traumatic experience. I must say the story really upset me. Because I can easily empathise with people who become skeptical after being hurt, but not to the extent of being hostile to people who are genuinely nice. Of course, I know, the line is vague.

Whatever, I keep telling myself I must never turn into that person I say I will not become. I'm not being judgemental here, but setting my own moral parameters.

Suddenly I'm very thankful that I wrote. This is far too different from writing reports.

My bus has finally reached my destination.