Don’t. 

Don’t say anything, if you’ve got nothing to say. 

Just make sure you don’t give her false hope.

Don’t call her everyday, pretending everything is okay, don’t light a fire that’s not even real. 

Just don’t start a flame, if you’ve never wanted to stay. 

Don’t be sweet, don’t be whatever it is you are, don’t encourage her, if all you want is someone to entertain you. 

Just don’t act like a paramour. 

Don’t ask her stuff you’re gonna forget about the next instant, if you aren’t in it for the long run. 

Just don’t feed her lies. 

Don’t act like you know better, if all you’re gonna do is try to change her as a person. 

Just don’t hang around. 

Don’t lead her on. 

Just don’t. 

Apathy

Working in a remote area with loads of patients, and very few doctors can be a pain in the neck. Coupled with the constant worry of not having enough medical supplies, the whole doctor thing gets messy. 

We basically take turns, and often miss meals because well, bulaava aaya. We all know I loathe group texts, and people in general – but when you get added to a workplace based whatsapp group, there’s no getting out. You’re supposed to cover for the other doctors when they are on leave because if you don’t, nobody will give you a break when you need one. What a crapload of a mess to be in. 

All of this is making me kind of apathetic. I don’t feel a thing. Except exhaustion. I’ve failed at relationships, been called out for being an opportunist, a pathogen and a slew of other names, and I don’t want to have a failed career too. I just want to be my own person, my own everything just so I can afford my life, and if that makes me look bad – so be it. I’m doing okay, I guess. 

Patients are cute. I get to see a lot of babies, a constant reminder that I’ll be a toxic mother so I should just refrain from the whole attachment thing. Seriously, don’t date MY kind. My kind don’t feel, we’re machines meant to serve the sick. And we won’t complain when you keep misunderstanding us. 

Such is life. 

Fragile

Ain’t it funny how no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try to get rid of certain memories, they insist on staying right there in the back of your head because you can even put on a certain dress without going back to thinking, damn this dress and why did he pick it for me and then all the other thoughts come flooding back in right from the moment it all started to the very end where it turned into something bitter and putrid and you can’t even remember how and when it ever felt good, like why did I ever fall in love with someone that took over my whole life and why the heck can’t I move on, because you know full well there’s no future and things have always been doomed from the start and all you ever really wanted was one nice date, and that you weren’t an opportunist or a player or anything and how much you wished he’d understand your job and that one of you had to stay happy and life sucks balls so bad it’s like a slew of stab wounds that don’t heal and you wonder why you let your defences wear away and why did you get so fragile, and when and why you let someone else take control of you, because you were meant to be in the driver seat, not him, not his mother and not religion and why can’t you just sit in your happy corner and just live a bit, why?

I Did Him Wrong. 

I once had the good fortune of dating a guy who was working on a start up for quite a while. Good guy. Great sense of humor, great grammar, great personality. I didn’t understand him, I didn’t. 

Not that I didn’t try. 

I didn’t know what you’re supposed to say to someone with passion that Michelangelo would have been jealous of. This person would work hours into the night, creating a logo. He didn’t have a functional company, but at least he had the idea, all he wanted to do was start a business, and be his own boss. He had too many ideas I didn’t understand. 

We couldn’t have been more different. 

He was passionate, and me, lacklustre. Where he was driven and had his own ideas, I was okay with being told what to do. We were chalk and cheese. He wasn’t actively making money, and when he said he was working, I secretly felt weird because he didn’t have an “actual job” or even office space! I was mad he lived with his parents at the ripe age of 34, and there were times I wished he would slog like I did. 

Office job, nine to five, salaries, soulless coffee. 

I think I was kind of jealous of him. He was his own boss, and happy and positive. And I was a bitter person with way too many complaints about life. I guess I was unhappy being forced into working for someone and being dependent on a boss who would dole out money – while he was happy despite his company’s failure to launch for three whole years. 

He never lost hope, even when I would go ranting about the age gap. What did I do? I gave up. The worst thing I could possibly do. 

I LOVE MY JOB!

So I’m working with a bunch of amazing people – all of whom don’t believe I’m the girl in my instagram feed (like Hello. Have you even heard of the “power of makeup”? A YouTuber made a whole palette out of it.) And I get to work with BABIES AGAIN! 

LOOK AT THESE TWO. 

I can’t even. Just look at the cheeks! 

JUST how are kids cheeks’ so chubby! Anyway. So we also had this one kid come in with congenital glaucoma and corneal opacity, basically something that won’t let him see unless surgery was done. I kind of wish my Dad was there to do it for free. Because the doctors at the hospital I work in aren’t ever gonna do anything unless you shell out moolah. Go figure. 

This isn’t a very bloggy post or anything, I just wanted to say hey and check in, because I haven’t been blogging much lately. I do hope you’re all doing great! 

Did y’all see the new iPhone seven and Apple’s decision to drop the jack? The ear bud things are teensy, and if you lose them, replacing them is gonna be a pain in the derierrie. Good thing I’m very low techy techy and I am not fussed about phones. 

Also, did anyone buy it yet? Let me know!

Bad-Luck-Chuck

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I’m sure you’ve seen the movie Good Luck Chuck – and you probably remember the story pretty well. Chuck is some sort of good luck charm and if you date him (and do the nasty) you find the man of your dreams the next day. That was basically the story. 

Remember the Goth chick that put a curse on Chuck? I think the same is happening to me and that my hideously ugly friend from middle school put a similar curse on me  except that instead of finding true loves, my ex boyfriends and all finding amazing careers. Oh and yes, there’s no nasty involved. TMI, but y’all know me. 

This is why I hate Facebook. 

You get to know when your great aunt farted. You get to know when your ex ate a ham sandwich at a shady diner. You get to know which color bikini their crush wore to the beach. And all of the stuff you don’t need to know. Anyway, back to what I was saying. 

I can’t.

Every dude I dated never had a career when I was with them and once it was over, BOOM, they’d all go abroad. Taking their epic promises with them. One dude I dated way back in 2008 tracked me down to gloat and tell me he was doing so well in New Zealand. 

And now another dude is going there too. It’s like an ex boyfriend convention. 

Jesus. 

I need to take Valium and coffee and go inhale some donuts.

I don’t need much anyway.

Hello, September!

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I love September. That’s because I love Virgos. My Dad, who’s also my favorite person in the whole world, is a Virgo. All rational, calm, great at organizing stuff, the kind of Dad who’d let a two-year old with pigtails eat ice-cream for dinner. And keeping the whole thing hush hush so Mommy wouldn’t know.

*Earth to Suchie.*

What a crappy first day at work. Well, it started crappy because basically I’m not great with babies. I have a phobia. I feel like I’d drop them and they’d get hurt, and this is NOT helpful when you’re trying to take the poor kid’s temperature. Or something. 

And there’s this annoying dude, I want to punch him in the face. 

I am so exhausted I make exhausted look energized. Bleh.

I have a problem. I talk too much when I’m nervous and embarrass myself. Which obviously happened today. It’s not cute. Now I’m that yappy doctor who’s also going bald. Peachy. 

And then people rechristened me to “Sushi”, and now I’m a dodgy Japanese Fishy Dish. 

Also, moving is a pain. 

In the bumzie. 

Have y’all ever been to a Goddamn furniture store? You wanna get a table but then you end up getting chairs, throw pillows, some chest of drawers and several completely unnecessary couches. WHY? Too many conspiracy theories, y’all. 

And now I’m broke. 

Uuugh

 I hate September. 

OMG Look. Someone just sent me this and I replied. 

Oh, I love September. Do y’all have any first day on the new job stories? Do share!

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to snooze.