At least you breath …

We will never know how to appreciate things we’ve already owned until we lose them. I think that’s one of the characteristics required for our advancement and evolution. We will always pay attention to something lying ahead, we will only crave for something out of our reach, and we will always suppose that the slice of cake that is bigger is not the one on our own dish. In some way, it’s good for us. If we feel so fulfilled and satisfied with ourselves, we will stop dead at one position. No movement means nothing new. Nothing new means we stop growing up and start deteoriorating with time. I can’t help but noticing that people around me and myself keep exaggerating what other people have. I don’t mean we admire other people for their success and achievements in life, I mean we always think of them as the ones who enjoy the ease of living on a better side of fate. That’s what happening with me right now. After a conversation tonight with my collegues, I again plunge myself in to a  mud pond of boredom and self-doubt. Yes, emphasize on the word “again”, I’m quite a pessimistic bitch for my whole life. Every trouble in my life will always end up being my fault only, according to another me who is living inside of me and who seems to be a wise yet bitchy been-there-done-that ego. Damn her, right now she is whispering to me: “Bitch, it’s all your fault. You are a loser and you deserve that!” Classic! Thanks a lot, the wise-yet-bitchy me.

Here’s the thing: I can’t get it, why they all seem to be so happy while I’m so wretched. Today, the conversation I’m always afraid of was triggered by a girl who is the daughter of someone – I don’t mean to be the bitch who blames fate to my unsuccessful life comparing to hers – as she always implies it in her word. She boasted (should I use that word?) that she would go to Korea next week for some embassador stuffs. Then another girl immediately jumped in, definitely being turned on by her words, then continued the stories of a fancy life in which she has travelled almost her whole life to fancy places. She said Australia is boring and full of “peagants”. She went on about some Korean guys who had a huge crush on her during her time there. I know, I understand. She’s beautiful, she has everything I don’t have and will never have: a pretty face and 2 huge boobs. Yet, I feel crappy about myself. I have never traveled overseas in my life. My father did, but it’s a business trip. I tried to boast a little about my plan of taking my mom and my sis to Thailand this summer with my own money (which seems not too feasible as my mom didn’t really appreciate the idea of me wasting my money). Well, a nice try to build up the already-broken pride of mine. It looks just like I’m trying to put on flip flops to walk against some Louboutin bitches-long-legs. They’re always like that, you know, wearing fancy things, talking about cool stuffs (like weeds and bars and lovers who they treated like trash), even having amazing boyfriends and friends in general. Their students love them, yet they don’t have to spend too much time preparing their materials. The boss appreciate their effort. I guess you would have to cover your eyes a little bit to protect them from their white-hot glory. Me? Bullshit. From head to toe I’m nothing but trash.

But at least, I’m breathing. Not much, but enough to feel like I enjoy a huge perk comparing to people who were six-feet-underground with worms and worse, who are suffering from physical pains and diseases. I remember a line from “Insidious 2”, something like: Only when you’re dead will you wish to be alive again, just to suffer, even from the worst pain and sorrow. In some way, pain and sorrow even make life seem real, so damn real you can touch it and squeeze it till its last drops. Yeah, life is real. To me. Right now. Well, I guess …

I’m smiling, ’cause Andersen once said: “Looked at from above, how many griefs of our own and of humans can make us smile …”.

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