Redux

It took a while to write again. And in retrospect, I understand why I haven't written for about half a year. I think for a long time, there was just a lot of negative energy.

I really should have nipped it in the butt, said something about how I felt to someone who mattered, who could have done something and talked about it in concrete terms, instead of keeping quiet or talking about it only with my friends. But I didn't. I had found it so difficult. I couldn't find a right opportunity. I didn't think it would work out. There really isn't anyone else to blame but myself. Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me a million times, shame on me.

But having talked about it with someone who mattered - notwithstanding that it was not much of a conversation but a broken, interrupted monologue - I understand why I didn't better. When you do talk to someone who can actually do something, on something like that, you put yourself in their hands and all your trust in them. And you expect that they do something to help. But sometimes, no matter how hard they try, and even when their actions are significant in of themselves, it isn't enough. Despite all their best efforts. It's too little, too late. Or maybe it's just that their remedial actions make you realise that what you really need is something they can't give you. As much as the remedial actions are commendable.

So for about a few weeks after, I became nonchalant, less involved and less engaged. I became the person that I hated.

With some distance, maybe I'm a lot more clearer on what I want. And it's time to be a alot clearer on what what I need to do going forward. A lot more positive and constructive. No more of that crap. I can make my own choices and I pick my poison.