Inking on my guestbook
Having a taste of the corporate culture is like diving into a voluntary void. The weekend though it’s just the first of the many, feels sweeter than any other. I’m putting in every once of effort to make it as fruitful and building a net to catch each opportunity of adventure. Nevertheless, it is this looking-forward that escalates the expectations for a dope weekend.
This almost transitional part of my life is a fresh bite amidst the fear of adjustments and unfamiliarity. The apprehension sometimes needs a cushion. So it’s a cold Sunday evening, fingertips cooling off with a mix of anxiety from the unpredictable week ahead and I’m rolling in bed. And words are browsing through every opportune perspective or idea to find a balanced fit and permit myself to get on with this frivolous life.
On another note, looks like the social circle just got tighter. Thanks to social media networks, I’m identifying increasing tangles between friends, acquaintances, lovers and idiots lugging bags full of historical stupidity with them.
But no thanks, I choose to forget and remember only the best. Leave a mark on my canvas, I want to enjoy life.
