work rants

I read my past entries again today. Mostly the ones I wrote in 2014 when things were very, very bad. Somehow I felt I could write quite well at that time. At least it seemed I had expressed myself quite clearly. Maybe I was truly emotional and melancholic for the longest time, and they say, one who is full of misery could come up with extraordinary pieces. Right now, I doubt I could write as well. In a way, yes, I am no longer that emotional, nor that melancholic. Once in a while, I still find myself in a state of isolation, yet usually by choice, for I have learnt to cope with many things on my own that I often need time alone. Whatever happens, if I ever feel upset, I snap out of it very quickly. This is something I discover about myself the past half a year at least, and I am secretly proud of this achievement. I think I have become a genuinely stronger person, mentally and emotionally. 

Recently, however, I am actually very vexed because of work. I am not upset I guess, but I have not been very happy for weeks because of work. I have heard enough about the things people say, about detaching oneself from work and whatnot. I have been trying. But it is simply because I really put my heart to it, which is why I am so disappointed and disheartened. Frankly, I think I probably like 80% of the work I am doing at work. It is almost a perfect combination of all the things I like to do and have always wanted to do. And so, I used to foresee that I would stay in this place for a long time. Now, I often mock myself for my naivety. 

I do not think I am a very smart person. If anything, IQ was probably never one of the factors why I did relatively well at school. But I always try my best to deliver. I like to think that I can do well if I work hard and so even though I did not seem to have done very well in university, I am serious about the things I do at work. I like to believe that everyone starts on an equal footing and will be entitled to opportunities as long as you work hard for what you think you deserve. 

Am I too innocent to think this way? 

I could not feel more disheartened these days. But I still try very hard. On top of that, I try to be nice to everyone. I may always make very sarcastic remarks, but more often that not, those are often jokes that I use to strike rapport and build relationships with people. I dare to say I am generally nice to everyone. I always render help whenever I can. 

It seems, however, that I do not belong here. My mum would say, wherever you go, it will be the same. I do not doubt her words. I only know, at this point of time, I want to go away, as far as possible. I feel very hurt by the things people say and do to me. I can jolly well not care and continue to do what I have been doing. But then, what is the meaning?