I know that nobody really gives a crap about my new job, so I know that they're happy for me because they want me to be happy, to have what I want. It is sort of the same for me. I'm happy that after all this time I am properly wanted, with terms and conditions and a take-home salary. A real, legally-binding promise, signed and sealed.

Over the years people have always told me that there's no reason for me to worry, that everything will turn out ok in the end. It isn't a complicated process, and I am more than good enough. The older and wiser boys deal with this so well, they never seem to miss their shots, and if they do they never lose focus, they are always moving on, looking forward. They don't worry, and they tell me that's because there's nothing to worry about. I tried to be like them but I couldn't, I can't, my ambitions and emotions are all tied up with each other, and my head is always a mess.

There have been so many episodes of this anticipation - excitement - stress - nausea, dry-gagging, shaking, waiting - more dry-gagging. Then, hopelessly facing a person who would then destroy my soul most apologetically. Going into hell for a week and dragging myself out of it for the next ordeal. Again and again and again.

And this was the worst of the worst. I remember exactly how it felt, walking out of the interview room, shaking, the fuzzy feeling in my head. I couldn't even look at Harriet, because I knew she didn't know what to say to me either. The stinging feeling in my eyes came when I entered the lift, went away when I thanked the doorman, and came back again once I stepped out of the building. When the cold wind hit my face I realized I was going to lose it. I managed to get across the street, I went into a telephone booth to make a call, no answer, so I went underground, got into the central line train and covered my face with my hands. I tried to meditate but I ended up crying instead. I felt so stupid, all alone, this tiny Chinese girl in a navy suit and pumps, sobbing into her hands on the tube because all she does is waste time, waste money, waste everything given to her by her parents and life itself. The whole time I was aware of how ridiculous I looked, how embarrassing it is to be so vulnerable on public transportation, and... it just made me cry even harder. I felt so stupid for feeling so much, I felt like I was wrong about everything, always letting my emotions lead the way, in life, in love, in everything I do. I knew if I didn't care about things I wouldn't have to feel, they wouldn't be able to hurt me, I could live without crumpling up.

And now, in spite of everything, I have something to look forward to, and in that I've already had an easier time than most. How happy I am now just reminds me how fucking good it feels to want something so bad and have it in the end, to have hope fulfilled and ambition rewarded. My method is insane, but I will continue to want, I will continue to do so intensely, and I will endure pain and push on like a fool because I know without my emotions I will never want anything enough, and if there is nothing I really want how can my life be anything but meaningless?