Leaving your job was never the loss.
The real loss would have been you—the slow unraveling of your spirit,
the exhaustion that blurred the edges of who you are,
the way the weight of work stole pieces of yourself until you barely recognized what was left.

You were never the loss. They were.

They lost someone who followed every order,
took on responsibilities beyond his role,
endured underpayment, delays, and mistreatment just to make a living.
But at what cost?
Respect was never part of the bargain.

You did everything.
You swallowed your pride despite having a degree,
despite knowing you deserved more.
But they?
They stripped you down, reduced you to a worker who must obey,
who must endure,
who must accept disrespect as part of the job.

Just because my partner made a mistake in cooking—
one that resulted from your lack of proper instructions—
you thought it was justified to punish him by making him stand for four hours?
What kind of person are you?

Don’t wait until life turns the tables on you.
The world is round.
you won’t always be on top.
Remember that.

I won’t waste my time engaging with you.
I will never stoop so low as to match your level.
You may be educated, but your behavior is anything but dignified.

They demanded without explanation,
expected without clarity, berated without reason.
And when they insulted you—called you stupid, incompetent—who was truly ignorant?
The employer who couldn’t give proper instructions?
The one who expected you to memorize recipes instantly?
The one who assumed you should move with the speed of a machine?

If they wanted a robot, they should have installed batteries in their kitchen.
They should have used a remote control instead of expecting you to function without rest,
without thought, without dignity.

But you? You are not a machine. And they? They are the ones who have lost.

Leaving that job does not mean failure. Staying in a place that destroys your sense of self—that would have been failure.

And the truth is, you are not alone. Many have walked away before you, many have endured the same abuse. And yet, no one stays.

Because respect is not found there.

Because dignity is worth more than a paycheck.

Because real loss is when you forget that you deserve better.

So, you walked away. And that? That was power.

Nice try, you can't hurt me
With a single blow, once or twice
I've done that, experienced that
A couple of hundred times
I ain't coming from the wake & bake family
I need no cannabis to smoke,
I breathe the smoke they puff in
I breathe it in like an air freshener
I breathe it out like a toxic waste
You know me don't you?
Only by my name, not the real me.

I always wonder why
Over time, my poems changed its tune
And why the ways of writing
Has somehow led me on a different direction;

Was it because I always tried my best
To rhyme my poem
Or to write in free verse
Or to write my feelings like a prose
Or to converse in narrative poems?
Or was it because I used to be young.

I was filled with so much hatred and anger
That I chose to fight my battles in secret
And let people see the results of my victory
Or maybe because I chose to keep silent
Even if I was given the chance to speak up

Maybe I chose to never tell them the truth
And told it to Hello Poetry instead
I was filled with so much forgiveness and sympathy instead
That I needed to be selfless
In order not to be labeled as selfish.

Or was it because I used to be young,
Innocent, immature and naive
Foolish, for a fact
That I thought when one cares about me
They needed something in return from me
I mistook and misunderstood plasticity from concern
Time told me then again, you revealed your true colors
And I was right, with your color of rainbow was somehow monochromatic to be exact

My guts told me about it all along
But I was tricked by my eyesight,
Even, by my heart and mind, deceived me.
At last, I was freed from their corrupted mind and treacherous heart.

That was because I used to be young.

Now that I am old,
Wise enough not to be told foolishly,
I learned my lessons
Gave up my sinful life and turned to God
I worry nothing more because I was freed.

Life’s plans don’t always unfold the way we expect, but God’s timing is far greater than our own.

In 2023, I was diagnosed with Conn’s syndrome and arrhythmia—a tormenting discovery. But I placed my worries in God alone, praying for a miracle.
When my doctor told me my left adrenal gland needed to be removed, I faced it with faith. Through laparoscopic surgery in August 2024, I underwent the procedure.

By late October, I enrolled in an online review center for my major in English while self-studying Professional Education and General Education at home.
For five months, I listened to myself—allowing rest when I wasn’t in the mood to study, watching TV when I needed a break.
I did not overwork my mind.
I slept when I was tired, ate when I was hungry, read when I was bored.

Instead of memorizing concepts, I familiarized myself with them. When my exam came on March 23, 2025, some mnemonics I had memorized appeared, but many questions were unfamiliar.
Afterward, I was drained, so I went to see my partner, and we shared a meal.
My thoughts were exhausted, my body weary—but the experience was strangely fulfilling.

On Monday evening, a friend visited, and we spoke about everything—the exam, life, the future.
I took time to rest before preparing to find a job, whether online or in person.
Adulthood has been overwhelming, but also incredibly joyful.

Seasons of waiting teach us far more than we realize. Opportunities come and go, but taking the risk never leaves you empty-handed. If you win, wonderful—but if you lose, you walk away enriched with experience. You may begin without skill, but you end with wisdom.

God’s seasons are always beautiful if you have the patience to wait. We often lose hope when life feels stagnant, when our efforts seem insufficient. Waiting is never easy—many falters, stumble, and fail because of impatience. Rushing only leads to mistakes, while taking the time to grow brings lasting beauty.

The secret to making life beautiful isn’t in haste; it’s in the process. Growth requires patience, like a baby learning to walk—it doesn’t happen overnight. No child is born today and walking tomorrow. Every milestone takes time; every lesson is earned through practice.

Seasons of waiting test our endurance, and yes, they can feel frustrating—even overwhelming. But remember, the best things come to those who wait. In patience, we find wisdom. In slowing down, we find meaning. And in trusting the process, we discover that life unfolds exactly as it should.