Dear Accountancy
When I look at you I am dispassionate. Joyless.
They told me, Accountancy is something you treat with passion and love. I'm sorry, but I find that unimaginable.
This is why I am contemplating divorce. But because I'm a silly whiny coward afraid to venture out to the path more prone to lower salaries, I probably won't.
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Dear Self
I think you have so many issues, you can start a lifetime subscription to an anthology of depressive narcissism.
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Dear Me
You are loved.
(But still so lonely i wish i learn what it is like to love, falling. i feel nothing.)
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Dear Me
Don't forget who you were. Sometimes when you look back and see old friends you haven't met in a long while you wonder if you truly missed them or the times back in the past where an incrementally younger you laughed and joked and loved the same stupid things.
All we have is time. This is precious - such is youth that the passage of a few months feels like a decade of change.
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Dear Me
It is alright to trust. It is alright to give your heart even though people might not reach out to catch it, dropping your palpitating flesh on the ground between you both. It hurts, but love and friendship is born of trust.
(but sometimes you feel it's you, insurgent,
foreigner, against the world.)
-
Dear Me
Stop angsting and get back to fair value changes.
