Historia Magistra Vitae est

The woman was a pudgy thing waddling around the space giving orders, cackling her trademark cackle here and there, though anything barely registers as funny. It was not easy to ride the wave of her humour. Though I suppose it is easy to apply that to every single local fish I have met here in London. The woman will inevitably be my doom.

The only good thing I can take solace from this is that it gives my life, in its present form, some bit of flavour, in order to give my day-to-day some kind of meaning. But in general the unwarranted drama is wholly unnecessary and nothing but a bucket full of copium. I have to take the humility until I no longer have the opportunity to do so, and this has always been the case anyway, regardless of what I do. So it is best to see it through to the end. Another addition to my trophy shelf of fails as if to imply that no matter I do it will always be the case. I just cannot be bothered to care a bit more. Best let it be and move on to the next best thing and let that spoil my opinion of life too.

Though yesterday was not as bad as it would have been. There have been little streaks of threats targeted towards me by the woman of my doom, bringing forth all these candidates to occupy my seat should I prove to be impertinent in her presence. All in all being patronised to a certain extent can be dealt with emotionally, but one should definitely need to learn how to grow a backbone and just take the humiliation in stride, for it only takes a single outburst, which is warranted and desired, to ruin the effort one has provided for as much as they have.

The next days will prove to be decisive. I have to make that decision, whether it wills me to or not.