Sunday afternoon at Aerotek

I’m in ZK’s office, perhaps a little high on caffeine, but nonetheless also contented enough to attribute the euphoria to having done some work at last. The whole of yesterday was filled with a sense of dread that I’m sinking into the state of obsession associated with the existence of my entire being dependent on another’s mood, cruelty and mercy. Those life and times in Cornell when I had been most helpless and hopeless even though my torturer, in all practicality, were leading way more helpless and hopeless lives than I was (Si Young the depressed prince and mum the eye-crippled, foreign-land-stranded aging housewife). Every word ZK said had carried extra meaning. Every sliver of indifference was a hint of intentional cruelty; every word of kindness or praise I swallowed eagerly like how the desert elephants drank when they came upon a water hole. Perhaps I was too much in need of sleep so I lacked the usual strength to bite it back and remain unscathed (which shows I’m still defensive and reactive. I hope the reduction in quantity indicates the improvement of quality). Yes that was yesterday and today, at this moment, inhaling the familiar smell of office space, stationery and paper, carpeted floors and cushioned cubicle walls, listening to “Bedtime Beats”, I’m at peace and feeling confidence steadily seeping back. I could once again associate ZK with warmth, optimism, a shared sense of destiny and the wonderful feeling of “the kind of good that feels like fate”.