Where I end up

I think we need to talk about my horrible life decisions, if not now then when? On this fine Friday morning, of course (or evening whenever I get a chance to finish writing it).

Not everything I do is altogether stupid. I’d like to think I manage my constantly spiraling out of control emotions against actual physical and financial needs relatively well as compared to others. But boy, when I fuck up I make sure I do it to a cataclysmic degree.

It’s probably too early to say for most people, but I gonna go ahead and say that I have a pretty good gut feeling of when things are completely shot to hell very early in the game(of life).

Let’s start with the gist of things.

Recently, I’ve started working a regular office hour job. Praise the lord, Cherie has finally caved and gotten a 9-6 mostly desk bound, traditional Asian parent approved, made use of her engineering diploma, squeeze in the trains to and fro home, mentally exhausting job after a solid 4years of work in the F&B industry bringing dishonor to her family. As you can tell from my overly enthusiastic portrayal, I’m having the time of my life.

In case you haven’t noticed, I hate my job. 

Or rather, I hate where I am in life right now. I wish I could say I hate my job because there’s too many things to do and my bosses are complete dicks when it comes to the KPI but that isn’t the case. In fact, they’re so nice and friendly to me, it borderline creepy, encouraging and guiding me every step of the way through my work while they’re carrying majority of the workload.
So now I’m left feeling like a complete douchebag. Because I’d somehow managed to find a company that’s tolerant, full of nice people and are overjoyed to have me around but I hate them for reasons I’m not even aware of. I’d like to give you guys an analogy of what’s going on but the entirety of the situation I’m in is so ridiculous I don’t even see the point of trying.

Changes and issues I’ve identified over the week in myself: 

1. I can’t sleep.
Sleeping has always been like hitting the reset button in my brain, charging me up for the next day and helping me keep a bright enough outlook on life. It’s been a remedy to a lot of set backs in my life so you can imagine how important it is to me.

Horrible customer? I’m napping during my break.
Bad day? I’ll sleep it off.
Fighting with someone? I’m gonna sleep on it and see if I have better ideas to solve it when I wake up.

Sometimes I sleep for hours just for fun. Like it’s a hobby I took to the next level.

But now I go to sleep hating myself every night. I don’t know what’s wrong, I just can’t sleep. Just when I think I’m tired enough to have my eyes shut on it’s own, I hear my pulse in head and feel my heart beating in my chest, as if I’d just run a marathon. It makes me uneasy. I feel like I’m forgetting or missing something, and I just can’t figure out what.

This has been happening every night ever since I’d started work. I haven’t even gotten knee deep into what I have to do, or received the accounts I’m supposed to handle yet I seem to already be needlessly worrying about something. And it pains me because I can’t have a solution to a problem I don’t even know what about. I can’t even help myself when I need and want to. I cant take it that I’m going to eventually sleep and the next day I don’t have means or a plan out of this predicament. I can’t seem to comfort myself at all.

2. I’m starting to enjoy smoking more again.
Before I’d left my previous job, I’d started smoking less. I guess the happier and more content I grew with my life, the worst a cigarette seems to taste. I never fully quit tho, smoking socially from time to time.

In all honesty, this point is probably the driving factor as to why I’m writing this post in the first place. Apparently you could take my sleep away and turn my life into a damn hell plane but God forbid I spend more money on smokes.

Slowly but surely, I’d started down the path of chain-smoking before heading to work. At this point, I’ve almost fully replaced breakfast with my oh-so-frequent light ups. Breakfast from day one had dwindled from a hearty meal of pasta, to one palm-sized rice ball, and finally, breakfast in a cup; a smoothie. This is all while my stick count had gone from zero to four before I even step in to work.

I do have an idea as to why I’d formally picked up smoking again.

I’ve started relating to them again.

I started smoking less mainly because I started disliking the bitter aftertaste and I didn’t need the high the nicotine was giving me. Now, I feel like I embrace it. Because internally I feel so fucking bitter about whatever is going on while the nicotine is no longer used to lift me and perk me up, but to simply get me through the day.

3. I don’t want to eat. Ever.
When it’s time to eat, I’d rather sleep. I’m so stoned and depressed out of my mind that I only ever register my bodily needs when my bosses as good as psycho me into eating lunch with them (why are they so fucking nice). If not, I go down and buy some junk like curry puffs and an obscene amount of fishballs. ALL THIS, because I think lunch is an adult thing to do and because I need to prove to myself and family that I’m capable of adulting, I eat. Not because I’m hungry or something tastes good. I eat for the sake of eating but now…

I’m literally eating just to fit in.

Seriously Cherie, what the fuck.
It’s a good thing that my appetite magically returns to me when I’m out with the husband (to be) for dinner. Or when he keeps me in check with what I eat. Probing me to constantly review what I eat, if it meets his meal standards or not. I swear to God, if it wasn’t for him, my daily food intake would probably only consist of coffee, redbull and panadols.

4. I hate Google so. fucking. much. right now.
Not because I can’t find anything on it, I just end up spending my entire time on it.

Kind of highlighting the point that I know next to nothing about this industry anymore, just the very very basic stuff. And please don’t give me that bullshit of how I’ll learn while on the job because no. Learning on the job is figuring out how to type an email without the words ‘Greet to e-meet you!’ in it or how to write a proposal. Learning on the job is not ‘Cherie, here’s a proposal. Tell me what you think of it’.

Maybe my directors have a golly good time watching me smile, ask for the email to be sent over and then frantically google what the fuck a proposal is and what all these terminologies are supposed to mean. Not fun.

Though I am glad to inform everyone that I am officially a Master Tab Opener on Google.

5. I don’t want to talk about work.
Well, aside from writing about it here, I don’t really like the idea of people asking me about my job anymore. The idea of thinking back on this entire mess of a life I have going on stresses me the fuck out. The best part is, I don’t even have something definite that I’m stressed over.

It’s not a project or a proposal to a very important client, it’s the stress of going to work, not knowing how to do your fucking job. Not knowing if you’re gonna get through another day of just fucking winging it, hoping your bosses -the bosses of the damn company- aren’t going to see right through you. You know, this is the point where I really appreciate the phrase ‘same shit, different day’ because at least I can pass my days actually knowing how to handle the crap I regularly have flung at me.

Basically, this whole job depresses me. It’s based in the busiest part of town where everyone is out there doing things and making things happen. Meanwhile, I’m sitting at my little desk googling like my life depends on it and desperately trying not to feel out of place, lonely and downright stupid amongst high level people.

The saddest thing I realized is that I used to love talking about my work. What I do, the people I meet, even the fuck ups that happen along the way. Somehow I managed to laugh everything off and carry on. I was never so truly lonely and depressed because I had everything I needed before. If I needed someone to talk to, I had friends and colleagues who were on the same level as me. People who laughed at the same things as I did and grumbled over the same petty issues.

I guess I made my mistakes and I’m paying for them now.

A miscalculation, a hefty consequence.


Only yours

Words cannot express how much I love you anymore. And by anymore, I mean I used to think I could. But then again, I had only thought I could. 

I know because there are no more pretty phrases or poetry I can spin up to compare this love to, just raw emotion. So raw I can barely contain myself. 

So here you have me, a complete mess. I scare myself at night when I think about being far away from you the next day, the urge of just being in your presence wrecks me. I’m constantly waiting for your messages, however mundane. 

I sleep best in your arms. All I ever want to do with you is sleep. Because you stop my world in its tracks and it seems to tip off its axis if I stare at you too long. Yet I still do because I just can’t believe you’re mine. 

I love you so much I could cry. Because no matter how many times I tell you I love you, it just isn’t enough. I just want to be with you, it doesn’t matter what we’re doing, though the more bodily contact the better. 

I love you so much it hurts. When I have to sleep alone and my chest feels empty; my bed cold. When I have to sleep pretending you’re with me. Patting me to sleep. Anchoring me to this world. A world in which I have a life with you. 

So when I say ‘I love you’, know that I mean I love you so, so much. That I might cry if I said it too many times. 

Know that above all else, my heart is yours and yours only. And I’m so happy that it is this way. 


I love feeding people, but I love feeding you most. 

I love spending money, but only on you. 

You’re the cutest when you’ve eaten too much and though you may get grumpy once in a while, I love you all the same.