In construction law, there are an inordinate amount of delays. Most times, things don’t go as planned. Variation order after variation order stack up, and you can never be sure that at the end of the day, you’ll get what you’ve worked so hard for. And all these complications go unnoticed, except for the few who work on your case. But even they struggle to understand you. Every project is different. There are really minute points to be made, technical jargons to understand, contradictory truths, unpleasant transactional human relationships, forced compromises. But high stakes, high gains.
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Life in KL, so far, feels a lot like a construction project reluctantly terminated early for lack of resources. I’ve traded a life where I was actually happy, for a life where everything is just a little bit shitty. I spent three years building something that I knew wouldn’t last. And now, I’ve got to start over. All alone. Without any help – no loans, no workers, no suppliers. Devoid of life, I find myself picking up dirt and trying to build a foundation from sand and tears. All the while, my life over the past three years stands tall, nearly completed, but abandoned. A mere mockery of who I’ve been, I find myself empty.
There really isn’t much that is optimistic about my life these days. This isn’t a happy post. Today I decided to try to be happier, and shit happened. I am reminded of the time a shitty teacher threatened to staple my mouth shut when I was 8. I find myself vividly recalling the last few moments I was actually happy and being unable to say for certain that I will be that happy again. A constant contest of experiencing the most depressing moment in my life, with no winners. On my drive back, I can’t help to long for another ice kacang day – full of laughter and whimsy and time spent together.
Every time I find myself rejoicing at the slight possibility of a stable foundation, it comes crushing down the next moment. Every ounce of happiness fleeting, and every respite brief. Exhausted beyond measure, and one snooze away from eternal sleep.
Yet I find myself trudging on. Tearful, almost glittering, eyes refusing to take its vision off the future. Eyebags stretching further than the path ahead of me and some undying part of me is unwilling to close its eyes and give up. My soul is weary, but I still have work to do. So I drag my ass off my bed every morning, no matter how reluctantly, and keep trying to build myself a new future.