I realized I had never love myself throughout my life.
I used to think that I love myself a-lot, my dad calls me a self-centered person since I was 8, he even tells story using me and the siblings as the character, and that character that I represent was being killed twice because I was too self-centered. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, this story still haunts me, not because of being told self-centered, but that my dad hates me so much he needs to kill me twice. I was told by strangers that I am always happy, and that sometimes I smile for no reason. With all the voices that were around me as I grew up, I automatically assume I'm happy, and I love my life.
Don't I? Probably I do. Probably I don't. Probably sometimes it's just about those unhappy days. Then I figured out that I should go find out, to find out whether I'm truly happy, whether I truly love my own life. I started asking myself what were my life's goal. I couldn't answer that even after repeating that question over and over again. Then I remember that was a mission that I was supposed to complete 6 years back when I dropped out of college. I was too busy helping out the people around me that I forgot to find myself, and somewhere along the way, I might somehow also forgotten to love myself.
Lately, I'm thinking about quitting my job, I know it's going to be a big step and I don't even think it would ever get approved, I should really ask my cousins on how do they even get their heads out of their family business; I've been trying hard, I'm thinking of drafting a list of reason in my resign letter, then it sound like I'm more like resigning from life instead of work. Then I think probably I should settle this problem before I leave, oh wait, then another problem came in, what did I want to do again? Nevermind, my life is not important here anyway.
I used to think that I love myself a-lot, my dad calls me a self-centered person since I was 8, he even tells story using me and the siblings as the character, and that character that I represent was being killed twice because I was too self-centered. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, this story still haunts me, not because of being told self-centered, but that my dad hates me so much he needs to kill me twice. I was told by strangers that I am always happy, and that sometimes I smile for no reason. With all the voices that were around me as I grew up, I automatically assume I'm happy, and I love my life.
Behind my smile, there's a story you would never understand.
Don't I? Probably I do. Probably I don't. Probably sometimes it's just about those unhappy days. Then I figured out that I should go find out, to find out whether I'm truly happy, whether I truly love my own life. I started asking myself what were my life's goal. I couldn't answer that even after repeating that question over and over again. Then I remember that was a mission that I was supposed to complete 6 years back when I dropped out of college. I was too busy helping out the people around me that I forgot to find myself, and somewhere along the way, I might somehow also forgotten to love myself.
Lately, I'm thinking about quitting my job, I know it's going to be a big step and I don't even think it would ever get approved, I should really ask my cousins on how do they even get their heads out of their family business; I've been trying hard, I'm thinking of drafting a list of reason in my resign letter, then it sound like I'm more like resigning from life instead of work. Then I think probably I should settle this problem before I leave, oh wait, then another problem came in, what did I want to do again? Nevermind, my life is not important here anyway.