"What is history? What makes history, history? What constitutes history?"
I think this could be an illustration to an answer.
Today is my last day at the office. I'm saying goodbye to start anew in another place. Mind you, I always believe I'm a person who is always emotionally detached (no kidding) and pretty good at keeping distance from people. My frequently said so-called motto is "what doesn't concern me isn't my concern." I'm not proud of it or the state I am, but it is me and I would never, ever hate myself. However, I am fair. I apologize when I'm at the wrong, and I say thank you when being helped. That's a "when" you see good, not an "if."
And there's always a first time for everything.
My fellow workers were kind, friendly and very supportive. They didn't treat me like a new kid on the blocks, and they didn't give me the eyes when I said I was going to leave. The boss and the management, too, was super nice--and I don't go everyday praising people. You see, I won't say it in flowery way, but to put it simply, they're the kind of co-workers that you would want to be around you. They're not yet my friends, but they definitely are more than strangers. Marlowe once piped up a coined term "friengers." So be it. My ex-fellow workers are the best friengers I've met so far. I realize I've written about them in past tense, but it's only a matter of grammar, not a matter of the heart.
Of course, I'm leaving for a reason that includes my future. Then what is a future? See it this way. My future doesn't just pop up out of nowhere. I may end up a bitter or a better person, but that isn't going to happen in one single day. The me in the future is constructed upon the me, me and me I am today. Today's memory is no exception, and that's my history.
And that I could live with.
Warmest,
Cia
(Also posted here.)
