Disclaimer:

Aalright, right now, let’s define the word success, which as you know, is complicated. to subjectively look at it will make things more complicated. and i suck in dealing with intricate matters. for me, it’s mind-boggling. you can either measure it through quantity or quality, depending on how you define that word. go on, as you please.

Success (in quantity) means how much is your salary, your position in the company (could be both considered quantity/quality). and oh, i shouldn’t forget this: you get to buy a lot of things (not from UK), then that makes you successful.

Success (as quality), if you have subordinates, if you have people calling you "boss"… if whenever you feel like eating, then you can just buy it anytime you want.

Ughhh… why spend so much time deciphering this matter when i could just simply close my eyes & shut up? how difficult is it to be happy & contented?

I know my definitions may appear shallow and distorted, but how else can i define it? optimism is not my style. may be i was born a pessimist or may be i’m just entering into that realm of uncertainty that i can use as an excuse of how poor i look at it.

That’s why recently, i’ve been trying to make myself happy. well, more of convincing myself that i am happy. i’ve been going out with some of my officemates (at least every other weekend). trying to convince myself that there’s a far more complicated world outside my world. and that challenges are just part of everyone’s life. and that you can’t get rid of it.

Can you imagine how a small ant struggles to keep afloat a rushing flood? trying to be alive. trying to survive. that’s how i see myself… a small ant. the ant’s survival may be scarce, but may be, that ant can survive. or can not survive. either way, i had my chance of living a life. although not enough to say that i have lived it to the fullest.

Then why do i have to define myself? why do i have to struggle to survive? why do i have to live? what’s my purpose in life? coz this is no joke! i’m getting suffocated of the thought that i haven’t yet determined what exactly life means. i don’t want to age, but not having tasted success, however you define it.

The irony though, no matter how i wanted to grow up, i still would want that child in me to remain. coz that child doesn’t worry about life. that child doesn’t worry about earning a living. that child doesn’t have to worry about heartaches. that child doesn’t know about envy, anger, etc. that child is innocent.

Hmm… but then may be, I have a purpose, something that I still have to find out.

               Pretending is an art that’s second nature with me,