It was Saturday. That meant the weekend was coming. Nobody had to work today. But he woke up in the early morning. His head was hurt. All night long he could hardly close his eyes. He also felt his back was sore. He thought that when he fell asleep, he must had fallen out of the bed.
He picked up the phone. He saw a message from his girlfriend received at 10pm. She said good night to him. He left a message said that he missed her message because he went to sleep early.
He watched the clock. It was 6am. He was in the bed. He picked up the remote of TV. He turned on TV. He looked at it, then skipped hastily channels. Nothing attracted him to keep watching then he turned off TV.
He got out of the bed. He opened the window. The window was next to him. He saw the cloud on the sky. Instead of enjoying, he yelled at the cloud. Then he walked into the bath room and took a bath. He felt more comfortable.
He wanted to drink milk. He opened a can of milk. Almost there was no milk left for him to pour into a glass. Nothing left. He was sad. Then he walked into the sofa. He sat down on the sofa. He thought about what happened to him this week. He thought what exactly damn things he took the responsibility for is. He thought what made him tired, what made his head hurt.
He didn’t get along with some people he worked with. They always understood everything as the way they wanted, though he kept talking about risks that would happen. If anything wasn’t clear, they should ask him, but no one did that. At the end of the peace, they blamed him for his weak communication.
Life had many rules we should follow. When someone broke out of them, that meant someone of us took responsible of the problems. They sticked on process. They went the road based on their process. If someone could change it, he or she must have many powers to do that. Unfortunately, it wasn’t him.
Someone was late, the project would always be late. The client freaked out. Why did time always go so fast? How could he bring it back? There were many meetings hold to solve this problem of timing. They were always aware of doing more than doing enough. But certainly not.
A small thing was merely one-page design, which had to finish on Thursday, but it wasn’t happened. It went forward to Monday. It took four-fucking-day to complete it. At first, he was angry. But later, he had to learn accept that and always thought that he had no reason to argue with them. They didn’t want to go beyond. All they need was to kept going on the current process. They needed him improve. They needed him change. They needed him speed up. When there was something went down, he would find it and move it up immediately.
“What is wrong with my life?”, he said. It often went smoothly, it was sometimes getting stuck. When he got something, he felt it was a luck one and doubted it. Because there wasn’t anything make him believe in.
Everything was moving slowly. His inspiration was no longer in his heart. They no longer ran over to him.