Dear diary
I made the worst report today,
yeah a report of an event I attended about a month ago. It had comments marked
in red, comments that where almost equal to the report itself. It wasn't always like this,
it was never like this, and this is how it happened.
Today is the first day at the
office since he left, the one and only the chocolate trump who also happen to
be known the son of the retired general. I woke up earlier than usual,
full of energy determined to turn things around, I showered brushed my teeth, but
when I was dressing up I noticed something, something strange, I walked towards
the mirror looked at the image in front of me, my clothes were two size too
big for me, I have lost too much weight. How am I supposed to go to the office
with clothes that look like I have just borrowed them from my neighbor? My hair
was a mess it hasn't been attended to for like forever, is this blue Monday or
black Monday anyway?? But despite all these i was determined to change my day,
they say positive attitude can make a bad day good, so I told myself today is
going to be a good day, I will live every minute of it, I will be happy, I will
not let these memories torment me anymore. Am going to bury my heard in work, be as busy as I could be, may be more productive than I have ever been. Even with
clothes that don’t fit me I made sure I look sexy to boost my confidence. I told
myself I will smile even to those who will not be friendly.
I got to my desk around 8 am, sat in front of my laptop and got busy, pleased with the distraction of
work though every time someone asked me how was my holiday it opened up the bad
memories I was trying to bury. I could not help it, once in a while both the good and bad
memories of the time I spent with the son of the retired general flew right in
front of me. I kept on working pretending it was not a big deal. Somehow this
weekend made me feel like getting over had started. Somehow burying myself in
other people’s problems made me feel like my problems were not that big. They made
me feel like I was stronger and everything was going to work out fine. I tried
so hard to believe that staying busy would be good for me.
Everything was working out well
until when the lunch time, i grabbed my hand bag and walked across the streets to that famous restaurant only to see a couple sitting on our Favorite table eating their lunch, it was like they opened a bottle of memories similar
to a bottle of cologne that sprayed across the room at that moment everything
came back to me, it reminded me of all those beautiful lunches we had together,
how we could choose what to eat and how we could choose what to drink. And I realized I wasn't hungry anymore, all my appetite was gone,
sitting on a restaurant table alone was too lonely for me. So i thought i
should go back to the office and write a report which my boss wanted me deliver by the end of the day, a report that turned out to be the worst
report in the history of my company.
Dear diary let no one lie to you,
love can mess up everything that you once thought it meant something to you, happy memories will turn to be unhappy memories will never leave you, they are persistent, you will be amazed
by how specific they can be and how the detail of everything pull you back to
square one. Every attempt to make one step forward is ruined by one small
detail of your past. I used to work so hard to remember things, where I kept my
phone, where i kept my hand bag, where I kept my keys, and now am working so
hard to forget!! These memories have taken root in my heart and mind and now
eating my flesh.
There has been too many tears, I
have used too much of my energy to fight back the tears, try getting get
back the person I knew before he left, to bury my head in something rather
than just me. But somehow these memories keep coming back to me. Everyday I
wake up and I convince myself that this is not real, it’s just a dream and it
will end soon that I will somehow wake up but I don’t. one thing am always grateful for it that you are always with me.thank you
No comments:
Post a Comment