I lack the number 9 in my Chinese numerology. For that perhaps I will forever be this way.

No matter what I do. No matter how selfless I am. No matter how I care. No matter how I help. No matter how I sacrifice or even if I took a bullet for those I love, it will always be this.

At almost 33, I should be able to predict this already yes? I should already be used to this feeling. I should be so immune that anything said will not impact me an ounce.

Truth is no, it hurts like shit. It does. I am expected to be ok, that eventually, I will be.

I guess it is alright to assume of me. Because after all, I don’t care or have feelings and I don’t get tired. Correct?

So what was it you wanted at 0000 hours, oh to help type out a new size chart? Oh, you don’t feel like driving out far to get your things? Oh, you’re tired, I’m not? Oh, you are lonely and you think you aren’t pretty? You’re girl cheated, it’s alright, Kak Juwita is here for you.

I am at a point where I don’t even know what to say. Should I feel sorry for myself? Nah I am not deserving of it. So when I put on my facade and march on with my play pretend, it’s all good.

So now, I should just wipe these streaks of tears off my face, get into bed, set my alarm and get up early. Quotations, proposals, follow up calls and more to be done.

Why be bothered, cause just like the missing 9 since birth. Nothing will change.