My last whining

Life is too ironic to fully understand. It takes sadness to know what happiness is,Noise to appreciate silence, and absence to value presence.


It bothers me how people’s perception of me matters so much. like why should i care if you think i’m good enough, fair enough, responsible enough for anything? why should i let a visit to the office and the look of displease on her face bother me? why should i let that whine of a colleague who constantly find fault with me and report every single nitty gritty detail to the crew in charge or whoever to affect me? why must i try subtly to make sure everyone is somehow happy before i can relax? why should anyone’s opinions matter to me? because i work for them? because i work with them? because i need the money? because you are important to me? because one day we might be family? heck. families cut me some slack sometimes. i’m buckling under the strain of what think of me. stop putting all that on me, i may not do it the way you want me to. but i try to do it good. and, bad habits and whatnots has nothing to do with you. it does not affect my character, my integrity or my pride. so what gives? i think it has reached a point whereby i’ll still sail on, with or without the labels you bestowed upon me and who gives a flying fuck anymore. well, at least i dont.