The last chapter

When you start counting the hours , nothing can be good anymore
Let alone a mundane 9 to 5 on the clock, or if the pay is lucrative.
If you don't feel belong anymore that's where the trouble starts.

I know I had been bitching about my current company in numerous occasions I couldn't recall,
whine so much about the management or how sucky it has become till everyone starts to yawn,
or even complaining about regrets that shouldn't have been made in the first place.

2006 is ending in a couple of days, and it has always been the same old years that has gone by previously. Just a normal routine of new resolutions, and reflection of what I have accomplished for the past 12 months.

I have to say, this year is remarkably productive if I were to put the whole picture together. Not a grand of stories worthy enough for a book or even something to be proud of, but still, just by looking back at specific months, somehow there are tiny fragments of memory that are worth jotting down on my buku tiga lima.

Just today I had a new task and was station in the heart of Bukit Bintang for some Digi roadshow. No, it's not like those yellow sperm suit you catch on TV, but similiar to it.
I am to escort a group of 'sandwich' guys/gals to parade around the golden triangle, and mind you, it ain't easy. My legs are killing me and I started sweating like a pig after just a couple of minutes under the scorching sun.

It's 'fun'. Really!. But knowing the fact that I have to work through New Year is not something you would want to remind me. I'll fuckin burn your house! and rip your teddy bear !
I will !
I'm evil !

Seriously. I'm like the worse paid bangla ever.

*sigh*

Recently, I realise that I have a very very veryyyy huge flaw hidden somewhere within me. I was reading Robert Peltzer's "a teenager's journey" where he talks about how bad his childhood was, and how he endured abusive remarks, and constantly being tormented from his mom. He couldn't let go of his past and live his teenage life doing all the wrong things that one could possibly imagine; drugs, alcohol and girls. He couldn't move on with his life. No matter how hard he tried to forget about the spiritual torture his mom left him, he couldn't be free. He had a lifetime scar, just like me. Only mine was different from his.

It's kind of hard to explain right now because everything is still very much vivid. A simple text goes a long way if you still have part of it in your heart. I really really need to move on and what makes me sad is I thought I did. The difference is I'm much stronger now, emotionally.

I definitely need a closure and I'm confident I'll get it soon.

The outcome, I dare not imagine.