the last curtain

I really hate goodbyes. I do. I've heard this line so many times, it's cliche. But really, how are goodbyes ever easy?

What had trigger this melancholic depressive state?

I sit by my table looking at my magazines. My magazines with my name and my teeny bopper wishy washy beauty views in it. [If anyone hasn't a flea care about my work, I would wholely recommend you to to stuff it where the sun don't shine for the next ten years. I'll like to see you strive in this industry and tell me it's a piece of cake (go on ... try... i dare you). I don't see you writing for an international teen bible for an audience of 60,000. Read again: We are a teen bible! And if you can't appreciate it, too damn bad.]
Right now, I'm in the most hateful earth shattering temper, I am in no mood to be tolerant.

Damn to attachment but God only knows how I loved this magazine. I worked so hard for it in so many ways I don't understand why myself.

How can you say goodbye to something you've spent countless hours on?

How can you say goodbye to something that has grown an arm and a leg in your heart?

How can you say goodbye to something that you've died and re-lived for every minute?

And how can you say goodbye to a team of people you've grown to love and admire?


I start by packing up my emotional baggage. Put it away nicely. And give it a good handshake.
I have to believe that Life doesn't end at leaving. It moves on enriched and enlightened with shitloads of gratitude and respect.