The office boy just put my name-bearing wall-hanging over my door and whilst most junior lawyers will be bursting with pride (I know some that even took to creating their own name plates before the official wooden engraving was up), I view it with slight despair and thoughts hint at a surge of overwhelming regret. To add doom to gloom, to add fuel to fire, sudah jatuh, ditimpa tangga (but it feels more like gajah) my own name is there, mocking the work going on behind closed doors. I can tell that today will be one of those, "Any little thing could make me cry" days. How horrible to be built with an inherent sense to engage, perceive and understand.
I really wonder where all this is leading to. I wonder if it will be revealed that for all the groaning these dysfunctional arms cause, whether the constant imperfection creates the perfect tension to survive and perhaps, although wishful, to maybe, one day, thrive.
I really sometimes wonder if people know how hard it is or if they have forgotten how hard it was to start out. Is it worth it to have dedication when to others my dedication seemingly produces no fruit? When did responsibility cost so much and valued so low? When did the "i" in me seem to matter so little when it is the "i" that perseveres to exceed the status quo? It is hard trying to keep morale when one is infused with an ache that screams, "Fail!" It is hard to fine the silver lining. Harder still when people shove and muffle you under the umbrella when all you want to say is, "Just let me streak in the rain d*****!"
Maybe it will be easier, derailed. I wonder if I'll remember how easy things were the day the office boy put my name above the door.