The million dollar question? Do the nice guys always win?

My boyfriend is amazing, we have only been apart (starting a long distance stint as I move to Singapore for a new job) for 2 weeks and he has already sent flowers twice, he calls at least twice a day and makes so much effort. We were best friends, we know everything about one another, he has seen the worst of me and has not been frightened away… He. Is. A. Gem.

So…why do I not miss him nearly as much as I thought?

In fact, I’m enjoying the independence and the new life that I have taken on.

There is yet another complication.

Last year, during my internship at my current firm, and I fell for a fellow intern x. We didn’t take it any further since we knew that we’d both be away for the year (completing our final year of studies), yet at the same time, we knew that we’d both be here now…

Surely we couldn’t have been so compatible considering that we couldn’t even wait this one year for each other.

But I find myself now staring at x constantly, wandering what he is doing, where he is going, how is he feeling, I find myself jealous of the girls he talks to, remniscient of the previous summer when we were so close…

I wanted to be a good girlfriend, I knew that x would be my weakness, so for these initial few weeks I made a conscious effort to avoid him. But it is so painful to see him all of the time, yet to know that we are no longer at that same level of closeness as last year. In fact, x seems to be on the cusp of something with someone else.

X and I used to talk everyday even when we were in distant lands, now we’re together, we’re more like strangers even though I am a mere text message away.

Maybe I have hurt x, now that I seem locked into another relationship.

If only I could talk to x alone, I miss those midnight meals we used to share…maybe that’s a bad idea.

I shouldn’t be too greedy, my current boyfriend is so amazing, the typical ‘nice guy’ that every girl would dream of meeting. But why did I meet him so early in life? I’m 21, not nearly at the age where I’d think of settling down…I’m so torn, so hurt, so confused.

I have missed out on x forever, and it hurts like hell to think of it like that, they say you always regret the things you didn’t do. Well this is surely one thing I did not do… Is it too late? If only I could be granted a sign…

As a child, like any other child, I never truly understood ‘suffering’. I thought that suffering constituted things like bullying, feeling ill and being in trouble with the parents. But 2011 has really opened my eyes.

It has been confirmed that my grandmother has terminal stomach cancer. What is most heartbreaking is the shattering of hope amongst the family. Ever since her stay in hospital began around 3 months ago, we were never able to confirm the diagnosis as either a particularly nasty stomach ulcer or stomach cancer. She has been in ICU for all 3 months and as the days wore on, the doctors thought it more and more likely that it was not cancer, arguing that a terminal patient at her age would not be able to endure all that she had been put through…and she has been put through a lot.

Perhaps it was cruel to instil hope of a recovery in my grandmother, because in ICU, tubes were pushed through her airways amongst others, causing immense discomfort. At every hospital visit, she would express the gross pain she was in (through shaky words by weakening hands) and profess that she would prefer death. Yet she’d still inquire about the futility of her condition, fearing that we were lying when we claimed that it was only a nasty ulcer, and hence all of her suffering would not be in vain. The doctors all reassured us that the chances of cancer were slim to none, so under such circumstances, we gave her the best medicines which kept her alive, and we allowed her to undergo painful breathing exercises in the hope that it would soon let her come off the breathing machine and out of ICU. She was often in silent tears when we visited from the pain, and each time we would ensure her that it would be worth it and that she would be out of there in no time. Indeed, her will to survive and bravery in the face of immense physical torture is something I hugely respect…
So it was all the more painful for us when that fateful gastroscope confirmed the worst, leaving only the bitter aftertaste of guilt and despair. This was suffering.

My grandmother’s episode massively impacted my mother, who I saw wither over the past few months. She has little tolerance for such things and in her fight to stay afloat, has became understandably depressed and angry, resulting in tension within family life and a perpetual pessimism in all that she does. When she is not crying, she is sighing, impossibly tired or lamenting.

Yet more horrifying is the thought that much/most of the pain is actually still to come, when my grandmother begins her final days. Thinking of this makes me truly question humanity and life, and it becomes clear why people might doubt the existence of a benevolent God. The doctors have given her a few weeks (to a few months maximum) left.
I am conscious to try to maintain the optimism and ambition I had a couple of months ago. There is much that is beautiful and worthy of exploration by a young graduate like myself, eager to see and experience the world, though it is difficult to prevent other experiences from colouring these thoughts.

First and foremost, I think of those who love me and I look at my wonderful boyfriend sleeping beside me now as I sit typing this post in bed at 3.58am. I know he would do anything for me, and it pains him to see me like this. It also hurts to think that my new job will take me 11,000km away from his side to South-East Asia for over 2 years. My guardian angel can no longer watch over and guide me, I’ll miss our discussions of the path that is life over poorly cooked dinners in poorly furbished college kitchens, he can no longer be that undying source of warmth and safety (and hugs) – someone who I can curl up to at the end of a long day, and I can let my guard down with.

Though we will both work towards surviving the next few years with the relationship in tact, and no doubt the first few months settling into foreign, unfamiliar surroundings will be painful, when I will miss and need him the most, will the routine and humming rhythm of daily life eventually push what we have now to the back of my thoughts? My heart physically pains at the thought of parting, about how this is the last time I can hang out all day in dorms, just enjoying his company and basking in his love.

Things will change as I venture into the world of work and he stays to complete the next stage of his medicine degree and qualifying as a doctor, will we grow apart? Will we last? Though the answers are unknown, what is certain is that whatever happens, it won’t be easy, I can see the tears and feel the pain already. Once again, I look at his sleeping figure and pray for the future, pray for my grandmother and the alleviation of her physical distress and pray for my mother and uncle, whose burden is unimaginable in this difficult time.

Sitting in the library, I stare blankly into space, the sun is gorgeous outside but here I am, still stuck here after 15 hours, it’s that time of year again – exam term, when students go all out testing who can endure the longest library sessions and how many caffeine-laden beverages they can stomach within a 24 hour period. But my mind isn’t on my studies at all and I blink back tears for what feels like the ten millionth time today.

I had it all planned out, I knew what I wanted, I was happy, I was on course, I was fulfilling my goals, achieving my hard-earned objective…only for him to come into my life and call all of what I knew into question.

Graduating this summer, through numerous interviews and untold effort, I managed to secure a job at a white shoe firm in the heart of developing Asia. I was so excited – it was a dream job in an exotic location. I’m young, ambitious, and so, so ready to see the world and experience the life of an independent urbanite – even if it later decided to bite me in the backside, I could at least say I tried, I experienced, I have no regrets…but then he had to mess all of this up.

We’ve only been together for under a year but it feels much longer, having been ex-best friends. Although initially with my reservations about whether this will work, we have since gone from strength to strength, and now struggle to spend a day apart. He has always known that I am a free spirit, itching to see the world and bound for faraway lands at the earliest opportunity, but this did not deter him…when I mentioned this before we started out he simply replied, ‘Even short-lived happiness is worth pursuing’.

I thought I admired this carefree and romantic approach to life and love, but now, faced with the harsh reality of a potential long-distance relationship with no light at the end of the tunnel, I cannot help but wonder whether I was wrong to have jumped into this in the first place. Now I find myself torn, he tells me not to worry about him and to go ahead with my own plans, and that he will work with them…indeed, he is the type who will commit to waiting a few years, but even I do not know how long I may be gone…

I don’t want to sound cynical but cold, harsh, reality will bite. Yes, he may really love me, and it have worked out between us…if I stayed in this country. Despite his extraordinary persistence and love, never for one moment have I deceived myself that what we have is some innate connection – borne since the beginning of time and fuelled by some higher power so as to speak, implying what we have is so special that we don’t even have to work at it. Relationships require TLC, they require patience and most importantly presence. I cannot say that long distance never works – but surely you would not disagree with me when I say that it makes things much, much harder.

A strong connection may be enough to last us through the first year, or even two…but beyond that? We will be embarking on different lives, different paths, and pursuing different goals as our lives diverge from the students we are now. I will be diving into the world of work, into the thrills of starting a new life on the other side of the world, savouring a newfound freedom and sense of independence, him staying put, going onto clinical school on the road to becoming a doctor. As romantic and optimistic as I am, I cannot pretend that we won’t grow apart, if not from the 11,000km of distance between us then the sheer time apart. Although two years may be insignificant when considering my whole life, the cost of dear from the point of view of fragile relationships, that thirst for care and maintenance.

Then there is the absolute killer that the duration of the separation is uncertain. My mother once said that it is OK to go long distance, and that they do work PROVIDING there is a light at the end of the tunnel and that there is an agreed time that the separation will come to an end. It is something to look forward to, something to count down towards, otherwise, there is not a hope in hell that things would work. In my case, there not only no end date, the only thing that I was sure about is that I did not want return to this country, which would be exactly what is required if I stay with him…

Ever since age 12, even when I did not know what I wanted to do in the or what aspects I considered to be important in life, all I knew was that I did not want to stay in the UK and that I wanted out at the earliest moment – which is exactly what I have managed to secure for myself. But now, I have chosen a boyfriend who is studying to join one of THE most immobile occupations… I have always maintained that only if I get married, would I consider staying here… Is this really it? How can I commit now? I’m 20! And with so much to see, so much to experience, being tied down is exactly the opposite to what I envisaged for myself…

On the other hand, this guy really is something special.  I am definitely not someone who is easily bowled over by flowers/romanticism, my friends often comment that my brain is wired like a man’s – logical, rational, considering problems through reasoning and an objective point of view, and I know a good thing when I see one…and he is definitely something amazing. Others even subtly suggest that I should hold onto him, though possible, I think it is fair to say that the odds of finding another who treats me the way he does are extremely slim…

Outside, rain starts to splatter against the glass and the clouds turn the sky a murky grey, my problems seems to have even driven the sun away… I glance over and see him diligently revising his material, unaware of the inner storm constantly raging within me. He looks up at me, smiles and blows a kiss…sending a wave of physical pain jolting across my chest – its become a frequent occurrence for waves of real pain to hit when I think about what I have to face in a few months time, they always knock the wind out of me and send my senses into a blur…

I love him, but I really, really worked hard for what I wanted, I was so excited about travelling and experiencing the world, I feel so torn and hurt…

I need to head out for a walk now…my notes still unread.

He sees me packing my stuff and quickly clears up too, smiles and reaches for my hand…this is so, so hard…

Life is short, this is the one thing I have truly understood after this visit. I felt like I was staring at someone who was staring death in the face. My grandmother could not talk, she had at least 5 tubes attached to various parts of her body, and could only do all she could to communicate through writing words on a piece of scrap paper. I did all I could to fight back tears when all the nurses already knew who I was when I went into the Intensive Care Unit for the first time:

“Oh, it’s 4-1-11’s granddaughter right? From Cambridge right? Hehe, no need to introduce yourself, your grandmother already told us all!” I saw that she had written that I would be visiting on that sheet of paper in weak, faint handwriting. She is so frail, barely able to hold that pen, constantly in pain despite the continuous stream of painkillers and anaesthetic that numbs her senses yet makes her feel so ill. My chest physically pains at the thought of the effort she had to exert to get those words on that sheet. Tears spring to my eyes as I recollect the look on her eyes as she laboriously turned her head towards me as I stepped up beside the bedside table.

“She’s been waiting for you, she kept asking us the time” her nurse added as she walked past me, she leaned in and quietly added:

“Say something encouraging, your grandma needs support…”

I looked down at a grandma I could barely recognise anymore, she was bloated and tears were running down her eyes. I choked, panicking, unable to think of anything to say.

“Wipe her tears for her”, I heard my mother behind me.

My hands shook as I reached for the tissue and gently soaked up her tears, “erm….grandma….you will get better”

She stared up at me, I felt like the most useless and stupid person in the world, what kind of ridiculous, feeble attempt at encouragement was that?! What could I do to help? She was in so much pain. The only thought running through my head was…don’t cry, please, don’t cry, this is not what she needs right now. She needs positive people around her, she will get better, she WILL!

I could feel the chills down my spine as I caught a glimpse of the other things she had written on that piece of paper, “prefer death”, “too painful”…

It made me think long and hard about the morality of euthanasia, I don’t think you can call her irrational, I don’t think you can refute that she is capable of making decisions, but her requests for an end to her pain were much ignored, responded to with a “don’t think like that, you will get better, it’s not cancer, all of the pain you are going through at the moment is worth it…”

I didn’t know what to think, my grandma is notoriously unable to stomach any kind of physical pain, despite, or maybe exactly because she is a doctor herself. I wasn’t there at the time but previously, when she had still been able to express herself in the ambulance, she had told the lady accompanying her:

“I am not afraid of death, but I am afraid of pain, don’t let them put tubes and machines on me, keeping me artificially alive…” I looked at her sadly, isn’t this exactly what she did not want…?

You know those one-time use dentists’ gloves? You know how they would puff up if you filled it with water (or air), and resemble a large ball with 5 protruding stubs? Well, that is pretty much what her hands resembled. Panicking, I asked the doctor why she was so bloated, she sighed and pointed at the numerous drips and fluids feeding into her, shaking her head:

“You can’t help age, when you get into your 80s, your body is just not what it used to be”.

She started off with only a stomach ulcer, but the mass bleeding from that one ulcer has sent her body completely off-balance, her immune system is weak, any tiny infection now is fatal. Her blood count is low and she constantly needs transfusion, there is still minor internal bleeding, together with the various drips is causing her body to bloat, her bloating stomach is pushing against her lung, which is stopping the doctors from being able to remove the breathing apparatus. The tube down her windpipe is causing her immense discomfort and pain, leading to constant use of painkillers and anaesthetic, the anaesthetic is preventing her recovery, which requires her to practice breathing on her own, but when the sedatives are removed, she is in immense pain and her mood takes a turn for the worst…

She has been in ICU for nearly a month now and hopes of recovery look slimmer and slimmer. It’s heartbreaking to watch this woman, my grandma, slowly fading, a once energetic woman whose voice could once shake the room, now relying on a plethora of medical equipment and barely able to open her eyes.

I think back only a few months, when her presence irritated me, and her watchful stare made me want to hide from her – so I did. I remember thinking that if one day, she were to become frail and ill, I would regret the way I treated her, well that day came far sooner than I could ever imagine.

I’m sorry

I know that feeling sorry today is worth so little, infinitely less than if I’d have been kinder to you when you were healthy.

I’m sorry I made you cry

I’m sorry I’m a selfish, ungrateful bitch

I’m sorry for those times that I’d ignored you

I’m sorry for those times I hoped you weren’t there

I’m sorry for those times I worked against you

I’m sorry for thinking of you as a nuisance

I’m sorry for the times I made you feel unwanted, unloved

When I saw you today on that hospital bed, looking so weak, but looking up at me, still glad that I was there…I’m so sorry…

You have always watched over me, you’ve always wanted the best for me, nobody on this earth loves me more than you do

Don’t leave

I had to do all I could to stop myself from breaking down when the nurse told me how you told them so proudly that my granddaughter is coming to visit, you had to tell them via pen and paper, u wrote all of that down just to tell them I was coming. You have so little energy, even holding a pen is an effort…

I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment.

You looked at me and I knew you didn’t hold any grudges against me despite the way I treated you

It’s heartbreaking to see you like this, please, just get better

At the same time, it kills me to see you battle with the medical staff, I know the treatment hurts, actually, I probably do not understand…please, I do want the best for you. You say that its not worth fighting for, I respect that…but know that we all want the best for you. we care about you, we want to see you get better, we love you…

I was strong today by your bedside, I did not cry, yet I hate myself for saying so little…

Why do I have to resort to saying all of this here on this blog that you will never read…

I love you, I appreciate all that you have done for me, I think back to when you cried your eyes out in worry for me when you heard that my parents divorced. I think back to the time when you walked all the way to the market in the 40 degrees blazing heat, just to get those prawns because you thought I might like them…even though you knew I was very unlikely to be visiting again before I leave, it kills me to think that at the time, I did not even want to visit…

Although I want to see you get better, I just don’t want you to suffer

Right, I have to stop the tears now, if I don’t, you’ll see my puffed up eyes when I visit tomorrow. Know that I’m fine, I’m who I am because of you, I love you and want the best for you…

There is every hope in the world that you will get better…we need you to be strong, we love you,

As a little girl, before I knew the magic attached to romantic relationships, I used to wonder why every single song was about love… Why did boys sing about girls and girls sing about boys, why was nobody interested in all the other things in life? Having posed this question to an older girl just entering her twenties, her answer was simple: nothing else is worth singing about. Since nothing else could ever compare, is it any wonder that popular music, media and literature are littered left, right and centre with star-crossed lovers, childhood sweethearts and broken-hearted souls armed with a never-ending supply of Ben & Jerry’s?

I now fully appreciate her wise words; indeed, I have been touched once by the magic of the rhapsody of being in love, when both your eyes and mind are blinded to everything else. It becomes increasingly difficult to tell the difference between reality and the thoughts in your head…what did she mean? Did I imagine that look on his face?

But it also makes me wonder, the reality is that divorce rates are higher than they ever used to be. Social norms have been smashed, popular opinion has shifted, both Disney and Hollywood have their parts to answer for in advocating the principle of love marriages, where lovers at a stage where they would die for one another pledge their lives blindly to each other. Yet if one day, they wake up to find that the love is gone, it is perfectly acceptable in our day and age to let the marriage be free to dissolve…

This modern phenomenon is surely a product of liberal western attitudes to love and marriage; moreover, it is spreading rapidly across the world. Historically, in nearly every culture, parents have played a more significant role (or even played the sole role) in choosing the lifelong companion with whom their children are to raise their own families and spend the rest of their lives with. Of course, there is a much greater romanticism involved with the idea of being able to determine one’s own fate and choosing your life partner for yourself, but what could the consequences of that blind pursuit of a ‘happily ever after’ potentially be?

Perhaps this argument is far too crude, after all, as cliché as it sounds, love is most definitely irrational – everybody knows that one needs no reason more than the sumptuous smell of her hair or the adorable slight upturn at the corner of his lips to fall hopelessly for that special someone. In fact, modern relationships are characterised by a lack of reason, a lack of logic, a lack of explanation… Have we all gone mad? Or perhaps, are some of us mistaking love for something far more fickle, far more temporary, and far more dangerous?

…Infatuation

The Oxford dictionary defines Infatuation as ‘an intense but short-lived passion or admiration for someone/thing’. Perhaps the key part of that definition is the emphasis on the short duration, but also the blinding intensity, which knocks all common sense and reason out of the window. However, it was the trusty Wikipedia definition that I felt embodied everything that billions of people, including myself feel… Wiki defines infatuation as ‘the state of being completely carried away by unreasoned passion or love; addictive love’, it goes on to characterise infatuation by ‘unrealistic expectations of blissful passion without positive relationship growth or development’, other features include ‘a lack of trust, loyalty, commitment, and reciprocity’.

…Addiction, unrealistic expectations, blissful passion, a lack of real development of the positive relationship…all of these are hauntingly reminiscent of the modern romantic fantasy – the sexy stranger on the train/in the cafe, a glance from the most irresistible pair of eyes across the room, the so-called phenomenon of love at first sight.

Two of the happiest people in the world having found one another at a particular point in time, may find it difficult to remain in the same room a few years down the line. After all, divorcees look back on their wedding day and can only chuckle at their own naivety and idealism when they thought, as newlyweds that divorce would never happen to them.

So I came to the conclusion that popular media, instead of referring to love in those power ballads, were in fact consistently referring to infatuation. Yet defining the word ‘Love’ is a notoriously difficult task and the attempts I found were all fraught with vagueness and a lack of clarity. The Oxford dictionary emphasised all sorts of ‘affection’, the English language is clearly not extensive enough to fully embody the meaning of the word, even the trusted Wikipedia could only describe it as ‘the emotion of strong affection and personal attachment’ before going on to describe its religious and philosophical connotations. Although unsatisfied, I get the feeling that the idea of love is simply too large for us to define, it transcends borders, it transcends time, it is a word used to describe what we cannot find words for, in fact, some sources describe love as ‘everything that is good’, other sources embody the meaning of the word in their loved ones, ‘for me, my son is love’. Us humans are innately social creatures, yet the evolution of our temporal lobes has also given us the ability to care for other member of our species in a way that animals simply cannot manage. Love is indeed a fundamental aspect of our emotion and is one that we cannot do without, but surely, it is not the irrational overwhelming desire that popular film and music would have us believe.

Despite taking the meaning conveyed in song lyrics with a pinch of salt, I am a romantic at heart…nothing warms me more than seeing a old couple walking hand in hand down the road, or sitting together on the park bench, being totally comfortable in one another’s presence, having perfected the art of doing so for as long as they can remember. The lines on their faces are war marks from the years and decades they have braved together, they have survived the tests that married life presents, they have together faced the greatest challenge of their lives in raising children, they have overcome the possibility of separation and faced the tough world as stronger people with their partner at their side.

Although the intensity and enchantment of the sensation means that it is most talked about, it takes only very little to be swept off your feet on a whirlwind romance that takes you to the edge of your emotions and causes you to experience the seemingly impossible, but it takes more work than one can imagine to earn the right to enjoy that park bench with your other half on your golden anniversary.

…she is the one glowing with a subtle smile walking on a dreary road through the wind and rain.

Everything is still, it feels like I’m the only person awake within miles…

I wonder if you’re thinking about me too…do you believe in fate? Do you believe that our lives are written in the stars? Do you believe that our crossing of paths was destined?

I play games, and I wrote the rules myself – don’t play with me – you can’t win.

The stadium of life transforms into a ball-court, of which I drew the lines. I challenge myself to tempt you across the pitch again and again…only to push you straight back each time you’ve made the journey. Each time I leave just a little more to be desired, bait to hook you back… The plan is foolproof, not once has it not worked.

I tease, I toy, I manipulate… You are but the object of my attention for the current fleeting moment, it takes but the blink of an eye…

For me to be gone.

Chasing the spark…that delicious je ne sais quoi from the opposite sex, it’s true, when it happens, there is a physical reaction from deep within my gut which tells me, here I go again…Those all too familiar butterflies, these bursts of excitement coursing through the blood, the sweet words, flirty mannerisms, the nights of sleeplessness where I ponder over every word and line he has ever said. It is all too familiar… I find myself once again, falling, falling, falling…

I never thought it would be possible for me to fall again for someone as hard as I did the first time, I thought I had learnt to protect myself, but no, you have managed to do it. Like me, you subscribe to fate, what will be will be and there is very little one can do to change its course  if it is meant to happen.

Those two days in Bangkok have been two of the happiest days I have had in a long time, what more could I ask for? Sitting on that rooftop bar 50-60 floors up, sipping gorgeously sexy cocktails and discussing the ins and outs of your world and mine. Though at times it feels like you’re not there – purposefully avoiding me, is it the whole yo-yo thing guys do when they feel themselves get too close? I know nothing can happen this time, whether or not it takes off next time will be up to fate, will you still remember everything that has happened between us? Will you rediscover the feelings? Can we pick up where we left off… or will we have lost the momentum that we have worked all summer to gain? Will there be other people in the picture? Will we both even make it back at all?? So many unanswered questions, so many possibilities, so many places where it can go wrong…

Do you believe? Do you want it to happen? Perhaps, maybe, from time to time we have to give fate a little encouragement, something to go on, a little something to push it in the right direction. If there really is someone up there, to give them a little indication of what we want, whether or not he takes it into account and makes it happen is up to them, but at least…is it what you want? It is certainly everything I want… Please don’t give up on me, please, don’t let this all go to waste, wait for me…

Yes, compensation is undoubtedly important, it fuels the type of lifestyle I desire, it makes all of these years of studying worthwhile. For those of you who are familiar with game theory, you know that education is seen as a signal, with no real value and serves merely as an indication of an individual’s capabilities to perspective employers. But what else might one desire from an activity that one calls their job – what they potentially spend 40 years doing day-in day-out.

For me, I wanted to create an impact, that delicious sense of satisfaction from my job, the knowledge that I have made a difference, and without my contribution, the world would have been a lesser place. Even if means I have to sacrifice compensation to do something which makes me feel like a contributing citizen and useful human being…

Today I finished my internship at a top strategy consultancy and my perspective has somewhat changed, perhaps it is one of a little disillusionment. Fresh meat out of University – i.e. a new graduate is unfortunately relegated to the most menial jobs and it is impossible to feel like you are making an impact. I thought that something like strategy consulting would have given me the most possibilities in terms of making an impact, changing the direction of businesses, shaping the world of tomorrow. But it is impossible to do such things as a lowly 21 year old newbie, one has to be at Partner level before really gaining enough experience to form the answers the business needs, and being at the bottom of the food chain involves only a myriad of formatting, excel crunching, note-taking, and running errands. It can be difficult to reconcile that with the initial hopes I had pinned on the industry. Your job’s just a job, what is lacking in passion and belief is made up in lifestyle and prestige.

Compounding this, the lifestyle element to work has suddenly rocketed in importance in my mind over the summer. We stayed at the most gorgeous hotels, were treated to the most exquisite cuisines and sampled a lifestyle most could only dream about. Such worldly temptations are difficult to resist – one becomes accustomed to the treatment and the job becomes the tool through which this can be sustained. I guess it is important to take a look at cold hard reality, but is it also important not to lose sight of my hopes and dreams before this experience. I realised that unfortunately, I’m not as noble, principled and idealistic as I thought – the package the firm have offered is more than I could have hoped for. It is enough to pursue other goals – independence, ambition, self-achievement, maybe I ought to be content with that…

It makes me think, is having so much money, and indulging in such lifestyles immoral? I never had this when I was younger, my parents certainly did not have it, does this mean they were less happy? More likely, they were not burdened with the responsibilities and ugly issues that comes with having money… There are plenty of people in the world today below the poverty line, plenty of people who do not enough to eat, does it never cross one’s mind that in a world like this, there is no place for 5* extravagances, no place for gourmet meals where hundred dollar courses are simply thrown away. One will surely be punished for such wasteful practices behaviours if there exists such a thing as judgement day, the afterlife or karma.

As I stand in crossroads in life, I wonder how my life will turn out to be in 5 years time, 10 years time, 20 years time…will I be successful? –How will I define success? Will I be happy??