Too good for me

Someone said somewhere that if you tell yourself something enough times, your brain will believe it eventually. Meaning, you can lie to it as much as you can and it will eventually believe that lie.

Hope is like a piece of string at the end of a large heavy rope of hardships. Blow at it and it may simply dissipate and fall apart.

I knew this project was whimsical, but I didn’t realize that there were strings attached to it and none of which were the hopeful kind either. I won’t go into details, but to have three major setbacks all within less than a week really upsets me to a point where I am lost for words.

I asked myself on my way to Andy’s place, then on my way back home, “Must I learn something through these sort of failures? Must I be humbled to a point where there is no return?”

After I received an angry email from a client, then called Benny to find out that some crap had been happening between our third partner and the client, I became extremely down and so sat here and thought who I can call and hang out with. Of the people on my phone list, the only one I could think of at that moment was Laura. So I called her twice but there was no answer. After awhile, I called Andy and as I started my car, Laura texted me asking what was going on. Regardless, I ended up at Andy’s place and we walked around the neighborhood and talked about when he was a baby and toddler. We also talked about my issues. It was raining at the time, while we walked around Windemere High School.

In my walk with Andy, it was nice but I was also anxious as to what things will unfold the next day. The cloud covered the north shore mountains which reminded me of those pictures of Chinese rural landscapes. I came home around midnight and spoke with Amber on VSee until around 3-4am.

In my restless sleep, I had a dream that I was at a camping trip with my old high school class mates. In there somewhere, we were in a furnished hall way which looked like the downstairs of a hotel lobby hall way with couches and low tables. Benji Epp, Mark Cheng and Rajiv Khanghera were doing something to Mark. It looked like Benji and Rajiv were measuring Mark for a business suit. Somehow, Mark asked me to use his camera to take a picture of him. However, no matter that I tried to click the button or whatever, it wouldn’t take the picture, as if it’s either not in focus enough or something else. Eventually, I asked if I could use my camera which was much better. However, he seemed hesitant.

Somehow, we were now inside a classroom that resembled a well-lit version of my grade 4 classroom. In one of the corners was an opening that was opened to the sky. Except there was a tree with many branches in the way and Mark was on a branch close to me wearing a baseball cap and white t-shirt with shorts. He looked like he was looking at a bird or something. I wasn’t sure. Every moment I spoke with him, he appeared on a different branch, higher than the last. I remember I asked him, “Do you remember Patrick? Occasionally, he speaks about you and wish we would all meet up again.” Mark answered that he doesn’t remember Patrick. By now, Mark was really high on and the branches were starting to block his view from me.

I kept talking in a positive tone about the good old days and stuff, but by the time I finished, Mark was gone. Then it hit me that he was actually really gone and I started sobbing. I fell on my knees and cried hard. I remember seeing the part of the wall that was painted an ‘old’ reddish brown colour on a wooden wall. The upper part was an off-white, almost beige colour. The ground was one solid slab of something, also reddish brown. There were hanging drawings on loose paper on the walls. It felt like I was back in the Mitchell Elementary School old building.

Somewhere in there, either before, during or after, I was looking at a photo of what looked like Cypress Mountain from a bottom right angle, except it was by itself. No other mountains were nearby. Also, the environment looked tropical, like the heavier wooded areas of Hong Kong. It ‘felt’ musty, hot and humid.

I often feel that my life is a failure with so many mental obstacles which are solidifying. Growing up through my early 20’s until now, but more so in my 20’s, I was often the one people came to to rant and vent and ask for advice. I was rarely the one going to others for advice. I don’t need advice. I need a chance, but my friends don’t recognize that, nor grasp it. The lectures Jason give me are just his way of being helpful, but it doesn’t help me because I know what I must do. It’s just that, I cannot do them. Something in my brain stops me hard.

What I need is a chance at life. If someone gave me a job, I would most likely take it, but it has to be a job I can grow into and grow with the company. It’s not that I am a slow learner. It’s because I am a steady planter and grower. I want time to prove my worth and I want my bosses or clients to recognize my efforts.

In the last two years, I’ve applied to over two dozen job posts, but only one came back to me with a pro-bono proposal to share their marketing training with me if I built their websites. I am not a marketing type of person. That is why I will fail if I tried to look for new business as a freelancer.

You know what BIG (acronym for the company I work with) is to me? It’s a company where I still work as a freelancer, but each person has a specific role. I am the interface designer, graphics producer and QA tester. Benny is the business admin guy who writes up proposals, meets with clients, talk out the details. Our third partner is the back end builder. BIG is perfect for me because it helps mitigate the fact I have anxiety and depression issues and it was starting to bring me more steady work. However, with this current mishap between our third partner and the client, I feel that there is really no more hope. Indeed, again, I still have to talk to Benny later today, but ultimately, I feel as though the Universe has hammered down on my dreams.

I need Amber with me, beside me, so we can start on the next step of our lives. Yet, I need initial money for immigration and to settle here. So it could be years before we touch each other again. I so wish that this project went smoothly like the others. I wish that my dad didn’t gamble all of his money away so we wouldn’t have to work so hard today to mitigate their debts. He blames me for not making enough to take over the mortgage. He blames others for his own misfortunes. I wish that I was smarter with my money back in my 20’s. I wish many things and the last thing I wish is that I hope whatever body problem I have is not a terminal illness.

Death will be a release. Sometimes, I wonder if this is evolution in the works. The Universe is heartless? It dishes out some unbiased cruelty.

I have breakfast in front of me, but I haven’t even touched the tea yet, nor the cup of slimy flax seed water which I normally drink right after I wake up. It has been over an hour since I got out of bed. I keep saying that life sucks, which is the opposite of what I used to say, that the world sucks. That the world is unfair. Not life. Yet, it is more easier to say life sucks.

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